Alone
by Slytherally
Summary: What if Deathly Hallows had ended differently? What if Harry never knew he was the seventh horcrux? What if the one person looking out for the Boy who Lived, was not who you would expect? Angst!Harry.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Well, this is my first fic in a really long time. This is a story I've had on my mind for years, and it finally came out the way I wanted. :)

There are only a few notes about this story. Essentially, everything in the books is valid, up until pg.550 of Deathly Hallows. This is where my story begins.

Enjoy! Constructive criticism is vastly appreciated!

**Prologue**

_They were back in Dumbledore's office, the windows dark, and Fawkes sat silent as Snape sat quite still, as Dumbledore walked around him, talking._

_ "Harry must not know, not until the last moment, not until it is necessary, otherwise how could he have the strength to do what must be done?"_

_ "But what must he do?"_

_ "That is between Harry and me. Now, listen closely, Severus. There will come a time - after my death – do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake."_

_ "For Nagini?" Snape looked astonished._

_ "Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him, under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry."_

_ "Tell him what?"_

_ Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes._

_ "Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him-"_

Harry found himself struggling against an unseen force, fighting to keep his body in the memory, the most important memory he was ever to see. Something was pulling him back from the other side, a soft, panicked voice and the pressure of what felt like a hand on his shoulder. The image in front of him grew fuzzy and bright, until all he could see was white, all he could hear was a faint buzzing of ambient sound.

He fell backwards on the stone floor, his back leaning against the familiar panelling of Dumbledore's desk. He looked around frantically. Hermione stood a few feet in front of him, her arm outstretched, reaching towards him. It had been her arm he felt, her voice calling to him, pulling him back. Ron stood at her side.

Harry screwed up his face, prepared to yell, scream, do whatever he had to so he could finish watching the memory. He needed to see it, these were Dumbledore's final words for Harry. He opened his mouth, but before any sound could escape between his pursed lips a great boom sounded and shook Hogwarts to its very foundations. Trinkets fell off shelves, paintings dislodged themselves from walls, sending their occupants tumbling out of the frame and into adjacent portraits.

It seemed as though he were watching in slow motion as the Pensieve rocked on its pedestal and came crashing to the ground, sending it's silvery contents spilling out of the bowl and evaporating into the air. Harry sprung towards the bowl, but there was nothing he could do. He grasped wildly at the air, trying in vain to collect any little piece of the memory that he could.

He stood stiffly, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, his back towards his two companions. His head swam, his vision became cloudy. He leaned over Dumbledore's desk, his palms flat on the surface. "Shit!" He cried, bursting out, kicking the desk hard. The rich panelling cracked.

"Harry, I'm sorry I interrupted you, but-"

"But nothing, Hermione!" Harry spun towards her, his voice harsh. "I was this close to finding out exactly what Dumbledore wanted me to do, this fucking close!" He held his finger and thumb apart slightly and shoved his hand in Hermione's face.

"Harry, stop! Please listen to me. Your time is almost up, you only have fifteen minutes. We were lucky to find you like we did, nobody knew where you went. People are dying out there Harry, you need to-"

"You think I don't know what's going on out there Hermione?" Harry voice grew weak as the fight faded out of him. He couldn't stay mad at his best friend who only wished him the best. "I'm trying the best I can here, but I just don't know what to do. That memory of Snape's was the only thing I had guiding me, but now I have nothing and I-"

"You have us, mate." Ron stepped forward and clapped his hand reassuringly on Harry's shoulder.

Hermione nodded her support, wiping tears from her face. "Truly, Harry, I'm sorry, I forgot that-"

"I know Hermione, I know. It's okay." Harry reassured her. "We'll figure it out somehow. We always do."

"You need to make a decision Harry, your time's almost up. Will you go to him, or will you stay with us?" She asked hesitantly, not sure she liked either answer.

"Look, guys, whatever I decide, I can't ask you to come with me anymore. It's too dangerous and I-"

"Harry Potter, don't think that you're getting rid of us now." Ron barked out a laugh which didn't reach his eyes. His cheeks were tearstained and Harry remembered that he had just been with his family at the side of Fred's body.

Harry nodded, he couldn't refuse his friends their right to be part of this. "Right, let's go down there together." He glanced at the slightly crooked grandfather clock in the corner of Dumbledore's office and noted the time. "Shit, we've only got a few minutes left. We need to go, now."

Harry's eyes travelled around the perimeter of the room, drinking in every last sight he could, scouring the space for anything, great or small, he may have missed. A glint of silver and rubies caught his eye and without thinking, he grabbed the Sword of Gryffindor, clutching it tightly in his right hand.

The three teens jogged out of the office and into the dark corridors. It was slow going. Whatever spell had hit the castle and caused it to shudder had brought down walls and statues, making it extremely difficult to navigate the stone corridors. Arriving back in the entrance hall, a great voice once again rose over the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Your time is up, Harry Potter!" The voice slithered, invading every set of ears on the grounds. "Your lack of regard for your fellow students surprises me, Harry, but I suppose it's only to be expected from one so young. Perhaps you won't mind then if I follow through on my end of the bargain. It's a pity that I will have to cut down dozens of fine wizards to get to you. Such a waste of fine magical talent. I will find you, Harry Potter."

"No!" Harry shouted desperately. He pointed his wand at the wooden double doors and without uttering a spell, they flung open wildly, slamming into the stone masonry surrounding them. He bolted out the doors, Ron and Hermione close on his heels.

Chaos raged all around them, spells of every colour whizzing by at frightening speeds. They trio sent off their own spells in every direction, some contacting, others missing and slamming to trees and statues. Death Eaters filled every gap in the crowd, there wasn't a moment where one was not visible. Voldemort had been holding back, his numbers were far greater then Harry had ever imagined. He didn't have time to think upon the situation, but it suddenly occurred to him that they were going to be hard pressed for them to all come out of this in tact.

In all the commotion, it didn't seem to Harry that anyone noticed him in particular. It was as though Voldemort had never expected him to return. In that assumption, Voldemort had revealed a weakness, he underestimated Harry. He underestimated his determination to see this through.

All that was left now, as far as Harry knew at the time, was that he had to destroy the sixth horcrux, he had to find the snake and kill it, leaving the seventh and final part of Voldemort's soul, Voldemort himself, vulnerable and mortal once again.

He could still sense Ron and Hermione following close behind him, their breathing just as heavy as his was. They had steadily moved closer to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. The Death Eaters were less dense here, but had more places to hide and sneak.

All three stopped for a moment, resting to regain their stamina and assess the situation. It only took a moment for their lapse in concentration to be exploited and they quickly found themselves surrounded by half a dozen hooded, masked Death Eaters. The Eaters experience in combat gave them the upper hand and Ron, Hermione and Harry found themselves quickly separated. In the darkness it didn't seem like the Eaters knew who they had cornered.

Harry dodged and blocked various spells and managed to fire off a quick stupefy, bringing the Death Eater in front of him to the ground. The red light from the spell had momentarily lit up the surrounding area and one Death Eater got a good view of Harry's face.

"My Lord!" The man called, quickly touching the tip of his wand to his forearm. The man's long, platinum hair shone in the moonlight and Harry immediately knew who the masked Death Eater was. "Harry Potter is here!"

Instantly there was a loud crack and a smoky figure billowed into existence. Lord Voldemort, his flowing robes trailing behind him, seemed to glide over the surface of the ground as he moved slowly towards Harry.

Harry stood stiff on the spot, unsure of what to do next. Hermione's scream distracted him and he turned to see her kneeling on the ground, a Death Eater standing behind her, his wand pointed at her neck. Ron was similarly incapacitated by another Death Eater.

"Well, well, Harry Potter. Guilty conscience finally convince you to face me yourself? Couldn't bear the thought of innocent people dying for you? How noble of you. You know, you had me thinking that there is another layer underneath what everybody sees, another side to Harry Potter the world would rather not see. I think he is in there, begging to be set free. Only, it's too bad you won't live long enough to find out how dominant that side is. It's only you and me now, Harry Potter. Neither can live while the other survives. You know what that means, it's time for you to die now, once and for all. Nobody here to save you this time, Potter."

Harry's eyes were finally starting to adjust to the dark of the night and for the first time he noticed that something on Voldemort's neck and shoulders was moving. Nagini was curled up tight against her master, he was not letting her out of his sight. Now was the time he should have been able to use the information from Snape's memory.

His mind raced frantically as to how he would ever get close enough to Nagini, not to mention try to hack it to pieces while she was still wrapped firmly around Voldemort shoulders.

"You underestimate me and the value I place on my friend's lives. I would never abandon them to die. This is between you and me, Voldemort, nobody else need be involved."

Voldemort's cool, soulless laugh travelled through the forest like an icy blast. "Oh, young Harry, so naive. Anyone who associates themselves with you deserves the same fate as yourself." Voldemort reached into the sleeve of his gossamer robe and removed his wand, positioning himself in a duelling stance. Harry stood still. "Come now, Harry, duelling stance."

"If you expect me to show you civility-"

"No, Harry, what I expect is a little obedience! Now, I've tried to do this like a gentleman, but you're forcing me to take the easy way." He grinned. His wand was waved and flicked in such a split instant that Harry had not a second to respond. "Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screamed and the jet of bright green light hurtled towards Harry as it had so many times before.

Harry could not move, could not react quickly enough to do anything to avoid the green jet of light. It caught him square in the chest and he went down in a flash, though to Harry it felt as though the time he was hit to the time he struck the ground dragged on for an eternity. He heard Hermione scream as he fell.

A strange tingling sensation overcame him as soon as the green beam hit him, and though he no longer had any control over his body, he was not dead. He lay sprawled on the forest floor, face down, the Sword of Gryffindor wedged uncomfortably underneath him. He was dazed, he couldn't move, he couldn't think, but he was still alive.

He heard everything happening around him and decided he would simply lay there and listen, see what happened next.

He could hear the wailing and yelling all around him, obviously from those on his side. Strangely, the forest had become eerily silent other than that. Like none of the Death Eaters wanted to move, like even Voldemort was hesitant about his seemingly easy victory.

"Is... is he dead?" Voldemort's clear voice rang through the trees of the enchanted forest. Harry could hear leaves shuffle and twigs break as he moved towards Harry. "Draco, check him. Make sure there's no life left in him."

"Y-yes, My Lord. Of course." A shaky, weak voice responded. Harry thought it hardly sounded like the voice of the Draco he had known and hated for the previous seven years. This Draco sounded scared and intimidated.

Harry heard the light footsteps move towards him and he had to concentrate extremely hard to not accidently twitch or take a sudden deep breath. Draco stumbled on a rock on his way to Harry's side.

He knelt down next to Harry's head, his body blocking the sight line between Voldemort and Harry. Placing his fingers gently on Harry's neck to feel for a pulse, he leaned his head close to Harry's. "Don't move. I know you're alive. You've saved many lives, mine twice just tonight, and I'm sure you're bound to save more, but right now there's nothing you can do. Just trust me. Let me save you."

Harry could not respond, and didn't know what he would have said if he could. His mind was screaming a million things that wanted to be said. 'No, just leave me, I can't leave my friends!', 'Please, take me away, I've had enough.', 'Why are you doing this?'

"Just stay limp." He whispered one last thing before picking up Harry's arm and slinging it over his shoulder. He picked up the sword in his other hand and hauled Harry to his feet, hanging like a rag doll at his side. Draco stared confidently into Voldemort's red slitted eyes and smirked, disapparating with Harry in his arms.

A loud crack tore through the air and the forest was silent only for a moment before Voldemort's deafening roar tore through the night air. He disapparated as well, his Death Eaters following quickly after, leaving the remaining warriors of the light to stare in shock at the spot where their now deceased saviour had stood not three minutes previous. There was nothing they could do now but cry and slowly file back into the ruined castle to grieve and care for those gravely injured in the night's fray.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Hot, orange and yellow flames licked out from the heavy tapestries and oil paintings that lined the stone and wood panelled walls. Everything was on fire. Paintings wailed as their frames were engulfed, there was nowhere for them to go.

A dark haired man, dressed all in black raced down the corridors of this burning building, his dragon hide clothing shielding him from most of the heat. He seemed to know his way around, but was having a hard time navigating the smoky halls. He began to cough as the smoke grew thicker, the deeper he moved into the burning manor.

The man was shorter than most, athletic and lithe. His long, shaggy black hair hung in front of his emerald eyes, the hair that covered them also obscuring his trademark lightning scar. He moved purposefully through the manor, determination set onto his stony features.

He held no wand, he no longer needed one. In the five years that had passed since the battle of Hogwarts, Harry had trained himself to use wandless magic, among other things. He kept the sword of Gryffindor strapped to his left hip, his hand holding it in place as he ran, always at the ready.

The fire was burning faster than he had intended, perhaps he had been a bit overzealous in igniting it. Upon his arrival, there had been a much larger number of Death Eaters than he had anticipated and had seen no other way of quelling their numbers. That meant Voldemort was here, he had to be. He hadn't been able to fight them all at once and has sustained a few fairly serious injuries, and clutched his side as he ran, trying to stem the blood flow.

It had been years since Harry had direct contact with the evil mastermind, in fact, he wasn't even certain that Voldemort knew he was still alive. Anyone who had indeed seen Harry, and there weren't many, hadn't lived long enough to pass on their information, but the rumours had spread like wildfire.

Harry had been tracking Voldemort for months now, piecing together his most recent visions to create a plan. Nagini was in all his visions as well, always connected to her master. This made Harry smirk, his actions were getting to Voldemort, making him unsure; someone was killing off his Death Eaters one by one and he didn't know who was behind it.

Tonight would be the night Harry would finally complete his task. After years of intense training, preparing mentally and physically, Harry would kill Nagini and Voldemort in turn.

He was getting close. Images from his constant visions of Voldemort contained flames, Voldemort was still in the manor.

Still running, Harry rounded a corner and there they were. Voldemort stood in the middle of the dining hall, surrounded by half a dozen Death Eaters, most recognizably Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Wormtail, whom Harry had thought to be dead.

Harry smirked to himself and bitterly recalled the last time he had been in the manor, Hermione's screams from that day still hit him in the core. He hastily pushed those thoughts to the back of his head, that time of his life was over now, those people no longer held any bearing on his existence. His eyes locked fiercely with Voldemort's, and Harry couldn't help feeling smug at the absolute shock and surprise on his face at seeing Harry Potter standing before him.

"Surprised to see me, my Lord?" Harry called across the room, the roar of the flames making it difficult for the sound to carry.

Voldemort pulled his face from surprised to indifferent. "Well, Potter, it's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"And I'm sure you were thinking it would be much longer, you thought I was dead." Harry laughed. "How could I have been dead, who else do you think has been killing all your Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix?" He barked another laugh. "That's rich. I'm all that's left." The echoes of Hermione's screams had still not left Harry's mind and he couldn't figure out why. His eyes travelled around the room methodically, making absolutely sure there was nothing lurking to catch him off guard. Off in the far corner, his gaze locked onto a set of icy blue eyes belonging to a blonde little girl. She was wailing in terror.

Nobody in the room seemed to be paying her any attention, all eyes were locked on him. _'This is your one chance!'_ Harry thought to himself. _'Ignore her! He's standing right in front of you! This is the man who ruined your life!'_ He argued with himself, unable to tear his thoughts away from the little girl in the corner.

"This where your plan ends Potter? You've come all this way, spent all this time looking for me, for what?"

All present took the moment that Harry was distracted by the girl to fire a volley of spells at him.

Harry turned his attention back to the group of Death Eaters, narrowing his gaze towards them. Something shifted in the air around him, the air crackling, becoming thick, a round bubble of blue magic expanded from around his body: a shield. As each spell hit the rapidly expanding shield, they were absorbed into the aura and dissipated into the air. Not a single spell even came close to him.

The room fell deathly silent, none of its occupants understood what had just happened. "Wormtail!" Voldemort shouted in desperation. "Your hand! Get him!"

Wormtail looked absolutely terrified and briefly glanced down at his silver hand before locking his gaze back on Harry and charging.

The little girl's screams still filled the air and Harry could not block them out, his attention was divided three ways between the screaming child, Wormtail charging towards him and Voldemort, standing on the other side of the room. Harry would not let him escape, not after all the time spent searching.

Wormtail, at least, was dealt with easily enough. His silver arm extended out in front of him, he intended to injure Harry physically. Harry was quick, he flicked his hand up in a flash, catching Wormtail by his silver hand and holding it inches away from his own face. Harry's other hand clenched around Wormtail's neck, holding his body in place.

Wormtail's face blanched. "Harry... please-"

"You're pathetic. You're not worth my time." Harry hissed at him. "Avada Kedavra." He whispered under his breath. Green light shot from the palm of his hand and engulfed Wormtail. He instantly went limp and Harry let him go. He fell to the floor in a heap.

Without looking at him twice Harry stepped over his pudgy body and moved towards Voldemort and the others.

A large cracking sound filled the room and all looked up to see the source. The floor above was falling apart and large sections were falling into the dining hall. The dust from the crumbling masonry and the smoke were combining together and made it extremely difficult to breathe or see. Harry still moved towards Voldemort, but the little girl kept catching his attention. she would be trapped in the corner if she didn't move soon.

But Harry couldn't let Voldemort go, he couldn't let him escape once again, he was too close. He broke into a run, his hand clenched hard on the hilt of the sword at his side. He slid the sword ever so slightly out of the scabbard it hung in, and the little girl screamed louder than ever, debris raining down all around her.

Voldemort smirked as Harry's attention was drawn away. "It was nice to see you again Harry." He yelled above the roar of the flames. "I'm sure we shall meet again soon."

Harry heard Bellatrix's hysterical laughter and Lucius' deep chuckle as they all disapparated. Harry whipped the sword out and swung it wildly, screaming in frustration. "Fuck!" He gripped his hair in his fists and pulled hard.

Slamming the sword back into the scabbard, he turned his attention to the little girl, fury still raging through him. He knelt down beside her. "Grab on to me!" He barked, picking her up. The girl squirmed in his arms, trying to get loose. "Stop moving! I'm getting you out of here."

The girl buried her face into his shoulder, she clutched a plush green dragon in her arms. "Daddy. left. me. all. alone." She managed to choke out between sobs.

Harry took a deep breath to compose himself but did not respond to her. He looked around the room and found that all the likely exits were blocked by debris. She moved against him, her knee hitting his injured side hard, causing stars to appear in his vision. He held back a grunt of pain and tried to ignore it. With the smoke getting increasingly thicker, he was finding it hard to take a deep breath, the stars were not going away.

He knew they were on the second floor, and from the looks of the room, there was no available exit to the rest of the manor. He only had one choice, they had to go out the window. "Expulso!" He yelled, directing his thoughts at the large stained glass window before him. His thoughts were not clear because of the pain of his injuries and the thick smoke, the glass exploded in all directions. He quickly turned his back to the window and covered the young girl. From her weight and her size, he suspected she was not more than six years old.

The sudden introduction of oxygen to the fire caused it to flare up, the flames licked closer and closer to the pair. Harry leaned out the window and looked down, it was too far to jump. The side of the manor was covered in ledges and trellis' covered in ivy, it would be easy enough to climb down. "Climb on my back! Hold on." Harry coughed. He couldn't take a deep breath. The girl nodded against his chest and moved to his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, her legs around his waist. He swung out onto the ledge and grabbed the nearest trellis. It wasn't as stable as he had hoped, the flimsy wood buckled under their weight and a few times they almost fell to the ground nearly twenty feet below.

The exertion was causing Harry's vision to be full of spots, his limbs weak and wobbly. They reached the ground safely and Harry mustered enough energy to sprint away from the manor, escaping the flames and crumbling stone.

He put the girl down on the ground, where she immediately sat down and continued crying. Harry brought his hand to his forehead, pressing hard above his eyes, trying to clear the spots that still lingered. His adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the full feeling of his injury hit him, the pain excruciating. His breathing was still wheezy and he coughed deeply. Just as he thought the pain was starting to abate, his scar exploded in searing pain.

Harry's legs collapsed from underneath him and everything went black. Voldemort was not happy at all, that much he was sure of.

The girl stayed crouched at Harry's side, still clutching the plush dragon to her chest, one hand softly resting on Harry's back. He wasn't moving and he was barely breathing. She looked up, teary eyed, at her former home, the flames hot on her face. She looked behind her when she head a faint voice calling out from across the grounds.

"Antigone!" The voice grew louder as he came closer, the light illuminating his tall, slim frame.

"Draco!" Antigone screamed and jumped up, running towards the blond man as fast as she could. She launched herself at his legs and he scooped her up, holding her close to him as he quickly examined her for any injuries. Fortunately, she was unscathed. "Draco, daddy left me alone, and my room was on fire and I didn't know where to go, and that scary man was there and then they left me all alone!"

Draco looked up at his childhood home and watched it burn. His jaw clenched at the mention of Lucius. How could he leave his daughter in a burning building? He had not stepped foot near the manor in almost five years and, truthfully, was happy to see it in ruins. He turned back to Antigone. "It's going to be okay, Tig, you're safe with me. Where's mum, did she get you out? I'm so glad you're okay, I haven't heard from you in months and I-"

Antigone burst into tears once again. "Draco, mummy's gone. Daddy knew we were writing to you and he got mad and-"

"No!" Draco cried, clutching Antigone closer to him. "No..." he whispered. _'Fucking bastard!'_ He thought to himself. _'How could he?!' _ "How did you get out, baby?"

Antigone shifted herself in his arms and pointed to Harry laying prone on the ground. The black of his armour blended into the ground and made him almost impossible to see. Draco hadn't noticed him. "He got me out. He killed Wormy. The scary man was afraid of him and they went away."

Draco slowly walked towards the dark shape on the ground. Who would Voldemort have been afraid of? Only one person ever- Draco stopped dead in his tracks and quickly put Antigone down. He knelt at the side of the man laying on the ground. His hands were trembling as he touched the man's shoulder and rolled him over. The first thing that caught his eye was a glint of silver and red at the man's side. "Potter?" His gaze went to the man's face and he brushed his hair aside. "Shit." He lightly shook him. "Hey, Harry, wake up!"

Harry stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently.

Draco pointed his wand at Harry. "Ennervate."

Harry's eyes snapped wide open and he sprang to his feet, hand on the sword, in a defensive stance. Draco saw him blink a few times, as if trying to remain conscious. He swayed on his feet. "Potter?" Draco watched Harry as he tried to remain alert and on guard. "Potter relax, it's me... it... it's Malfoy."

Harry seemed to be lost in his thoughts. "Draco...?" He snapped to his senses, his face hardening, his gaze empty. "The fuck you doing here? Weren't you hiding away in America somewhere, you coward?"

Draco's face fell and filled with anger. "I came to rescue my sister, I-"

"Well you're too fucking late. I almost had him! I almost, fucking, had him!" Harry raged. He paced back and forth, new adrenaline pumping through him, keeping him upright, at least for the time being.

He turned a particular angle and Draco got a good look at him in the light from the fire. His face was covered in soot, his arms scratched and bleeding and he clutched his side tightly. Draco picked Antigone up again, not wanting to let her out of his sight.

"I have to get out of here!" Harry stumbled forwards, still barely able to keep himself upright. "Where will you take her? No place is safe anymore."

"I... I don't know. I can't apparate internationally with her, it's too far."

"Fuck." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. It took him a moment to recover. "I've got a spare bedroom, you can crash at my flat for the night." Harry looked thoroughly unimpressed about the situation, but there was no other option. "Grab my arm, I'll take you there." He stuck out his left arm.

"You can't apparate in this state!" Draco exclaimed. "You'll splinch us!"

Harry only grunted. "Just fucking do it." He snarled.

Draco reached out hesitantly and grasped Harry's forearm lightly, his gaze fixed on his own hand. He brought his face up and looked at Harry, but the other man would not look at him. Soon, the familiar sensation of apparition overcame him and all three disappeared with a resounding crack.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Draco struggled to steady himself as they landed, carrying Antigone threw off his balance. Harry pulled away quickly, breaking their contact. Draco watched as he hobbled forward towards a dingy, dilapidated house. He looked around and was surprised to find himself in a worn down, abandoned muggle neighbourhood. Everything was overgrown and it was eerily quiet.

Draco warily followed Harry into the house, unsure of what to expect. Antigone had stopped moving in his arms and looking down at her, found her to be deeply asleep. He smiled down at her. How she could sleep after such excitement was beyond him. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and rubbed her back. He lifted his gaze from her and saw that Harry was staring at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"The spare room's that way." Harry pointed with the lighter in his hand that was now igniting a cigarette. He turned and walked towards the kitchen.

Draco moved towards the room Harry had pointed to, which wasn't as bad as he had been expecting. This had obviously been a child's room at some point, the walls still pale purple, elegant white furniture adorning the room.

He whispered a quick 'tergeo' to clean the dust off the bed before placing Antigone down on it, pulling the soft white comforter over her. Fortunately, she was still asleep. As he leaned over her to kiss her on the forehead once more, a silver dragon pendant fell over the collar of his shirt. He cupped the pendant in his hand and stared at the plush dragon Antigone held close to her.

He tucked the pendant back into his shirt and left the room, wandering back out into the living room.

There, Harry sat in an armchair, his dragon hide shirt tossed over the arm of it. A half-smoked cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth while he inspected and prodded at the open wound in his side. The lighting was poor and Draco could not see the full extent of his injuries. "Lumos." He whispered, and light filled the room. Harry did not appear to notice.

Draco now got a good look of Harry for the first time. There was nothing left in him of the boy Draco went to school with. This man was fierce and terrifying. Without his shirt, Draco could see the dozens of scars adorning his body and the toned muscles that rippled beneath them. His scars were all in various stages of healing, from old, white lines, to red, still swollen and angry marks, to ones like the one he was patching now, still bleeding profusely. Draco watched Harry wince as he pulled off the cloth he had been pressing on the new wound on his side. He tossed the cloth on the coffee table and picked up a glass full of amber liquid, Draco could smell it from where he stood and found the smell a combination of pepper-up potion and firewhiskey. Harry picked up two white pills from the table and swallowed them with the amber liquid. He downed the rest of the glass.

"That good for you, Potter?" Draco joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry snorted, wrapping a bandage tightly around his side. "Like I give a shit, especially not after the day I had." He lit another cigarette. He lifted his eyes and through the shaggy black fringe hanging over them they connected with Draco's. There was nothing present in the formerly lively emerald green eyes, only a hazy emptiness. Draco found the gaze too intense and could not keep the eye contact. He turned away and paced the room. He heard Harry get up from the couch, his heavy boots echoing loudly on the floor. A cupboard door opened and he heard more liquid being poured into the glass.

Anger suddenly overcame Draco and he spun to face Harry. "Where the hell have you been?! It's been almost five fucking years and the whole world still thinks you're dead! I thought you had- forget it, I don't know what I thought. Have you been here this whole time?! Here, hiding from the world around you? I had started to believe you really were dead, I never thought that you could have abandoned-"

"Abandoned?!" Harry threw his glass down to the floor and it shattered into a million pieces. "You shut your fucking mouth, Draco Malfoy, you have no idea what you're talking about!" He stalked towards Draco, their faces mere inches apart. Draco was terrified of the expression on Harry's face. "Where have I been? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I've been here, fighting! Fuck knows, I've tried to leave, tried to let the Ministry deal with it. They abandoned us, they were a bunch of fools. If it weren't for me, the world as we know it would have ceased to exist not six months after the battle of Hogwarts. They refused to do anything! They wanted to give up the fight and just let Voldemort win! Fuck if I was going to let that happen. Who do you think has been taking out Death Eaters one by one? Me, that's who. And look what I have to show for it!" Harry gestured to the state of his battered body and the near squalor he lived in. "Where have I been? Where have you been? Leave your sister in the hands of your psychotic father while you live it up in America. Ha!"

"I have no other choice! I'm dead in an instant if anyone sees me here. I betrayed You-Know-Who right in front of him! I saved your fucking life! I gave up everything so you could live!"

Harry chuckled bitterly and sipped straight from the bottle of firewhiskey.

"How do you do it, Potter? How can you still have the energy, the optimism to think this world can be fixed. How do you have the will to do what you do, kill Death Eaters, burst into my father's home in the middle of the night, when You-Know-Who is there, nonetheless, raid the house and almost pull off a victory? How is this possible unless you have the support from somebody inside the ministry that is still uncorrupted?"

"Support?" Harry laughed. "Nobody knows I'm alive! I have no optimism for this world, the damage behind each one of these scars has taken away any hope I may still have had."

"Then why do it, Potter? Why try and protect the people you hold no hope for? Why try and save them?"

Harry's booming laughter shook Draco to the core. The laugh was deranged, manic. "Save them? Why the fuck would I go and do that? I don't want anything to do with them!" Harry turned his back on Draco and wandered towards his room.

"Answer me, Potter!" Harry ignored him and kept walking. "Harry, talk to me!"

The use of Harry's given name made him stop. Without turning around, he responded, fists clenched at his sides. "Who ever said I was trying to protect anyone? Can't I simply be doing this because I have nothing left to live for than to kill every single person who supports the man that murdered my parents?" Harry shut the door to his bedroom without looking back and with a whispered 'Nox' all the lights in the house went out, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the pitch black room. For so many years Draco had thought that Harry had abandoned his quest, leaving the world to die, but now he saw the truth, Harry Potter had abandoned the world so he could complete his quest without interruption or distraction, and he was going to take out as many Death Eaters as he could along the way.

Draco was shaking after his confrontation with the former Gryffindor Golden Boy. He sat heavily down on the couch and held his face in his hands, breathing deeply to try and calm himself. Usually priding himself on not being intimidated very easily, Draco was upset with himself for becoming so unhinged, though he supposed he had a good enough reason why.

Harry had changed, more than he would have ever thought possible. There was a darkness in him now, such darkness that he didn't think the ebony haired man could ever recover from, if he even lived to try. The way he was existing, Draco didn't think he stood a chance.

The only recognizable feature Draco had identified was his overwhelming courage and determination to see this thing through to the very end. That part of Harry reminded Draco of how he had looked during the battle of Hogwarts, the last time he had stood up to Voldemort face to face. Harry's courage that night had been what pushed Draco in the right direction and allowed him to make the decision to rebel.

Draco had been teetering with his decision for ages, ever since he had been ordered to kill Dumbledore. He had, of course, never wanted to do it, but had felt helpless about making any other decision, for fear of putting both himself and his family in danger. He had almost followed through, but just couldn't force himself to do the terrible deed.

The summer after his sixth year and what would have been his seventh year at Hogwarts were the worst days of his existence. He had been forced to stay by his father's side, obeying orders, carrying out mindless tasks for the Dark Lord, giving up information about his lower class and muggle born schoolmates. Every day he lived was agony, but he had no way out.

And then Antigone was born, mere months before the battle. Suddenly a light had appeared in his life, there was something worth living for, something to protect and nurture, something he had to keep from the Dark Lord. Draco spent much of his time then, with his mother and baby sister.

Draco grew more bold after Tig was born, and often expressed to his mother his wishes to escape. He hated his father and wanted to do everything in his power to make sure he never turned out like him. There was nothing his mother could do to help, Narcissa was just as trapped as he was, even less so after she gave her wand to him after Harry had won Draco's own Hawthorne wand from him during their escape of Malfoy Manor.

Draco's rebellion from the Death Eaters had started then, at the time the Golden Trio had been imprisoned in his home. When called forward to try and identify Harry, he had known right away that it was him, though his face had been swollen beyond recognition, there was no mistaking his body language, facial expression or the messy black hair adorning his head. He had taken a great risk, lying to them, and it had worked, at least for a moment, but he had done everything possible at the time to try and help them. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when they had all disapparated away safely.

Draco had always known that Harry had hated him, he had never shown anything to indicate otherwise, and why would he, Draco had never done anything to deserve kindness from him. This fact made Draco's mindset shift drastically on the night of the final battle when Harry had saved his life not once, but twice. It was at that point when Draco knew he had to do something, anything, to ensure Harry's survival. He wanted to live in the world Harry was trying to create. He wanted to be able to live without being looked down upon, or without having to do terrible things.

He had carried out that plan as far as he could. Once saved from the burning Room of Requirement he had made a beeline for the forest, towards where he knew Harry would be headed eventually. He predicted correctly, Harry did show up. He looked on as the battle waged, staying near to his mother who had no protection but him.

He heard his father's voice raise over the crowd that Harry Potter had arrived.

_"My Lord!" Lucius called. "Harry Potter is here!"_

_ Draco looked around wildly, and out of the shadows, his flowing robes billowing behind him, appeared Lord Voldemort. Harry strode closer, now in his line of sight as well._

_ The pair slowly moved closer to each other. Draco saw Harry's hesitation and fear of what to do next, and his eyes kept flicking back to Granger, her screams distracting him from his task._

_ Draco reached behind him and grabbed his mother's hand, silently praying that this would be the end. Draco's mind was not processing the words that Harry and Voldemort were speaking to each other, he was too anxious._

_ His mind peaked back into comprehension when Voldemort began screaming and raised his wand. Draco's breath hitched in his throat and he and his mother clung to each other desperately. Time seemed to stand still as Voldemort shouted 'Avada Kedavra' and Draco couldn't understand how the Golden Boy was not fast enough to get out of the way. He watched in horror as the green jet hit Harry square in the chest, and his enemy, whom he had recently gained so much respect for, collapsed to the ground in a heap._

_ His whole world went numb. Harry Potter couldn't be dead. He was supposed to kill Voldemort, Draco was supposed to be free to live however he pleased. Draco felt bile rising in his throat and he struggled to keep it down, his face paling even more than normal._

_ When Draco had been called upon to check on Harry, he feared the worst, as did everyone. His mother kissed the palm of his hand and pushed him forwards. He slowly strode over to Harry's limp form, not daring to look towards any of Harry's friends._

_ Kneeling beside Harry, he could feel immediately that the boy wasn't dead and he could almost not contain his joy. "Don't move, I know you're alive. You've saved many lives, mine twice just tonight, and I'm sure you're bound to save more, but right now there's nothing you can do. Trust me, let me save you." Draco's voice trembled as he whispered in Harry's ear._

_ He could feel Harry stir, see his mouth moving slightly, soundlessly. This was his chance to do his part, to redeem himself. _

_ "Just stay limp." He whispered one last thing before picking up Harry's arm and slinging it over his shoulder. He picked up the sword in his other hand and hauled Harry to his feet, hanging like a rag doll at his side. "This is my stand, my time to do what's right." Draco whispered to himself, staring confidently into Voldemort's red slitted eyes. He smirked, disapparating with Harry in his arms._

Draco smiled weakly to himself. The memories of that night had not diminished in the five years that had passed. No matter what had become of Harry, Draco still felt he had done the right thing.

He was snapped abruptly out of his memory by a hot sensation against his chest. He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out the dragon pendant, a white aura glowing around it. He felt fear flowing through it and a moment later, heard the soft voice of Antigone calling his name, she had woken alone.

He approached the side of her bed and she flung herself into his arms, sobbing and clutching the stuffed dragon to her. He whispered soothing words in her ear and rubbed her back. Pulling them both under the blankets, she fell back asleep, her little fists gripped tightly around his shirt.

Draco wouldn't find sleep easily that night, his thoughts drifting over the events of the past and present.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Draco gazed down at his young sister, her soft blonde hair spread over the down pillow. He admired her for being able to sleep after such an eventful day.

He had been so worried for her in the last few months, having received no word from either her or his mother, who both wrote to him in secret on a regular basis. He wiped a tear off his face now that he knew why. His mother was dead. He truly blamed himself for not being able to do anything, he knew this would happen sooner or later, especially with his father being both Voldemort's right hand man and the new Minister for Magic.

The Order had crumbled during the battle of Hogwarts and the Ministry along with it. With no one else available and Lucius being one of the only remaining high ranking ministry officials, he had been quickly raised to the position of Minister by those loyal to Voldemort. None in the community had opposed the appointment, they were either desperate for guidance of any kind or too scared to oppose the man who would have them killed if they resisted.

In the days since his father was appointed, civilian disappearances had skyrocketed. Any suspicious activity was dealt with immediately and harshly. Draco was both happy and ashamed to be hiding out in America all that time. After openly betraying Voldemort by saving the Boy Who Lived, there had been no way he could stay in the UK.

He regretted now, contacting his mother. He only wanted to let her know that he was safe, and to make sure she and Antigone were also. The correspondence had continued, she informed him of everything that was happening in wizarding England. His selfishness in keeping up the letters was what had led to her death, and it weighed heavily on Draco's conscience.

One of the first gifts Draco had sent Antigone after he had left was the green plush dragon she held so close to her. Whenever she held it, her feelings would broadcast through it and into the matching pendant he wore around his neck. When he had felt her terror transmitted through the pendant he had left America immediately with an ominous feeling that something terrible had happened.

International apparation was a lengthy process and the whole time he had been panicking. The only thing that had kept him calm enough to accurately apparate was the fact that he was still getting something out of the pendant, even if it was terror, she was still alive. The closer he got, the more frantic he became. Anti-apparition wards prevented anyone unauthorized to apparate on to the property and he was forced to run towards his former home from the gardens on the far side of the lot.

His heart had skipped a beat when he first smelled the smoke and saw the intense flames rising from the manor. Walls were beginning to collapse and he knew that if Antigone was still inside, there would be no way of getting her out.

Out of sheer desperation and fear he had begun screaming her name. Movement had caught the corner of his eye and he called out her name even louder when he saw the firelight glinting off her blonde hair. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes and called for him, arms outstretched. He clung to her, never wanting to let go. She could have died, it was a miracle that she hadn't.

Of anyone he might have seen that day, Harry Potter was certainly the last person he'd expected to run into. After the last time they had seen each other, how they had parted ways, Draco had been certain he would never see the dark haired boy again.

His mind drifted away to the months after the final battle but he would not let himself dwell on them and shook his head to clear them away.

He thought of his mother again, Antigone resembled her so much it almost pained him to look at her. He was all she had now. Under no circumstances would she ever be seeing their father ever again, especially not after he had caused the death of their mother.

Thinking of Lucius boiled Draco's blood, how a man could abandon his small daughter in a burning building was just not something his mind could comprehend. He clutched the bed sheets and ground his teeth together at what he would do if he ever saw his father again. It wouldn't be pretty, that much he could guarantee.

No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to Harry and just how broken and empty he was. He had not expected the war to have had such an impact on someone who had been so seemingly joyful and friendly during all their years at Hogwarts.

Bright, emerald green eyes shone from behind the boy wizard's trademark glasses in Draco's memory. He was certain that carefree expression would never return to his face.

When Draco had made the decision, rather, had finally listened to what his subconscious had always told him, and saved Harry, he had expected things to change. He had wanted them to come to a kind of truce, to put past differences behind them. Draco wanted Harry to know that he had never agreed with anything his father or the other Death Eaters had been a part of.

Expectations seldom live up to their hype, and Draco ended up with something far different and more life altering than he had ever expected. He knew that Harry must have felt the same, and Draco's presence now, only served to make Harry's life just a little more complicated, threw a little more on his plate. No normal person would be expected to bear the burdens that Harry Potter chose to bear.

Those familiar emerald eyes-

Draco was startled out of his daydream when Antigone squirmed and whimpered in her sleep. "No..." she whispered. "Don't leave me alone, daddy, not with the scary man. Help, Aunty Bella! The fire!" Antigone's discomfort grew, it was obvious that she was having nightmares about the night's events.

"Wake up, Tig." Draco whispered in her ear, pulling her up onto his lap and holding her close. "I'm here, baby, don't worry. You're safe. It's just a dream."

Antigone's eyes fluttered open, their icy blue depths, more like her mother's than Lucius' or Draco's, were filled with tears. "Draco?"

"I'm here, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head.

"Draco." She managed to speak between sobs. "Daddy left me in the fire. Doesn't he love me anymore?" The look on her face as she looked up at Draco absolutely broke his heart. How on earth was he going to explain this to her?

"Oh, Tig." He took a breath and settled himself, his teeth gritting again as he was forced to think of Lucius. "I know you might not understand this, but daddy," it killed Draco to refer to Lucius in such an affectionate term, "daddy, was not a very nice man. He wasn't ever very nice to me, either. That's why I wasn't allowed to stay at home with you and mommy anymore. His friends didn't like me very much either and they were more important to him than I was. You're better off without him. I'm here to take care of you now."

"Mommy wasn't very important to him either, he was always mean to her. She hid with me in the garden all the time. We always played there." Antigone's face had brightened at the mention of her mother and the quality time they had spent together. "I miss mommy a lot. Aunty Bella was s'posed to take care of me but she was really mean too, I hate her!"

"I miss her too, Tig. But we have to keep going, right? We wouldn't want mommy to be sad, watching us be sad, now would we?"

"Mommy's watching us?"

"Of course she is, sweetheart. She watches us and makes sure we're safe and happy, so we have to do everything to make that happen."

"Will we get to see her again?"

Draco smiled at his little sister's question. He envied children their innocence and wonder of the world. He had lost both many years before. "Not for a very long time. One day, when you've lived a long and happy life, it will be time to go see her, and she'll be waiting."

Antigone smiled and buried her face in Draco's chest. "I love you Draco."

"Love you more." He grinned and kissed her head again. "Now, let's try and go to sleep. We've got a bit of a long day tomorrow. Depending how I feel, I'm going to take us back to America. I'll have to see how much my magic has recovered, it's a very long way to travel and it takes a lot of energy."

"America?" Antigone sounded excited.

Draco nodded. "But first, we have to sleep." He slid down the bed so he was laying down, his long legs extending over the edge of the small single mattress.

"G'night, Draco."

"Sweet dreams, Antigone."

She shut her eyes and was asleep almost instantly. Despite his exhaustion, it took Draco much longer to fall asleep, and it certainly wasn't a restful slumber. All night he was plagued with dreams of the months after the final battle, memories dredged up with his re-introduction with the Boy Who Lived.

Draco was wide awake by the time the sun came up early the next morning. His eyes were scratchy as sandpaper and red as the Gryffindor banners he loathed so much in his teen years. Antigone was still deep asleep. He certainly did not have the energy to apparate internationally today.

He carefully extracted her from his arms and pulled the comforter over her, bundling her in tight. He stood from the cramped bed and stretched, running his fingers through his normally silky, now tangled, platinum blond hair.

Shutting the door to the spare room quietly, he wandered towards the kitchen for a glass of water. He was hard pressed to find a clean glass but managed to find one decent enough to fill with water from the old, slightly rusty tap. He turned, surprised to see Harry sitting at the small table in front of him. He hadn't noticed him on the way in.

Swallowing the mouthful of water he had held in his mouth, Draco waited for Harry to say something. He didn't. In fact, he didn't even seem aware that there was someone else in the kitchen with him. His eyes were empty and glazed.

"You're up early, Potter." Draco spoke, sticking with stating the obvious as a conversation starter. After his previous day, Draco was sure that Harry would have slept the day through, especially considering the large volumes of alcohol, potions and pills he had consumed when they had first entered the house. Draco looked him over carefully. He looked like shit. He wore a simple white t-shirt and black sweatpants. The side of the shirt was stained with blood, and it looked fresh, Harry was still bleeding from the night before.

Harry's gaze rose and met Draco's. Seeing his scrutiny, Harry stood from the table, dragging the glass he had clenched in his hand along the top of the table and shakily brought it to his lips. "Yeah, well, I don't sleep much anymore." He finished off the amber liquid in the glass. "Your sister okay?" He asked quickly, not allowing Draco to respond to his last statement.

Draco frowned. He could tell Harry was trying to change the subject, like he had revealed something he hadn't intended and was trying to detract from it. "Yeah, physically, she's fine." He ran his hand through his hair again. "Look, about last night, I want to thank you for saving her. I know you're beating yourself up for letting You Know Who get away, but I really appreciate it."

Harry snorted, walked away and didn't say anything. After a moment of pacing he turned towards Draco again. "Don't expect to stay here too much longer. The only reason you're here is because you were too weak to apparate last night. Today you're perfectly fine, so you can leave anytime." Harry remarked scathingly.

"I wouldn't dare go anywhere in the UK, and I'm still in no condition to apparate to America, especially not side-along. If we could only stay another day-"

"That's not my problem. You're not welcome here." He spat. "I don't allow relatives of Death Eaters in my house."

Harry's mood had shifted so dramatically and quickly that Draco wasn't quite sure how to process it. "Excuse me?" Draco asked, in shock. "How dare you! After what I did for you-"

"What you did for me?! Ha! What you did for me isn't even close to making up for all the things you and your father and the rest of Voldemort's Eaters did."

"You're out of line! You know I never wanted-"

Harry strode forward intimidatingly and grabbed Draco's right arm, pushing up the sleeve, exposing the dark mark which stood out so drastically on the pale skin of his forearm. "You wear the mark of my enemy, why would I allow you to stay?"

"So I'm still the enemy? After all these years, is that really all I am to you? I gave up everything, my family, my status, my fortune, because I believed you could change the world. You know, over the last four years, there have been times when I truly believed you were dead, just like everyone was saying, and it saddened me, not for myself, but for the world. You were the only one who had the courage to stand up for what we all believed in, and that was gone forever, or so I thought. After seeing you now, I wish you actually had died, at least then the world would have been allowed to fall. But to hold on and suffer like this, for the selfish reasons of an extremely depressed and vengeful boy, it's just cruel. You're far more evil than you claim I am." Draco spat back at him.

"You're skating on thin ice here, Malfoy..." Harry nearly growled. "You're not the only one who's given up everything-"

"Why did you? You still have friends out there, supporters who would do anything to see you alive again. Why have you kept everyone in the dark? Think of how everyone-"

"You make it sound like it's supposed to be easy! The Golden Trio reunites, we all waltz through a field of daisies and the war is won. Look at me! It's not that simple."

"You don't have to do this alone. This is not your-"

"Not my what? Not my responsibility? You know for a fucking fact that that's not true! It's only me! Me, a fucking drunk, damaged and bitter fuck up who has nothing left but vengeance." Harry's voice trailed off and Draco sensed a tired hopelessness in his voice.

Draco reached forwards and placed his hand lightly on Harry's shoulder. "Just listen. You don't have-"

Harry's head sprung up, his tired, sad expression replaced by rage. He shoved Draco back hard and Draco stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance. The little hairs on the back of Draco's neck stood on end. Harry was breathing deep, trying to contain his anger. Draco could feel the level of magic in the room rising, the air felt statically charged, tense. "Get the fuck out of here!" Harry bellowed. The air around him began to crackle.

Draco was petrified in fright. He'd seen many terrifying things in his life, far too many for his liking, but seeing Harry truly furious topped the list. His mind scrambled with all the different ways he would be able to get out of this house with both he and Antigone completely unscathed. He backed slowly out of the room, only turning his back when Harry was out of sight.

He rushed into the spare bedroom where Antigone still lay, blissfully unaware of the tumultuous situation brewing all around her. He scooped her up, wrapping her in the small comforter. "We're leaving, Tig." He hurried out of the room as fast as he could, not even looking for Harry as he bustled out the front door. He didn't notice the absence of the plush green dragon, laying on the empty bed.

He practically ran down the street, Antigone squirming in his arms, her tired mind hadn't fully comprehended what was happening yet. Once around the corner, Harry's house out of sight, he slowed to catch his breath. Where was he going to go now?


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Draco glanced around the neighbourhood, carefully making sure there was no one there to identify him. Fortunately, the street looked legitimately abandoned, though he couldn't figure out why it would have been. It was, or had been, a muggle neighbourhood, but there was something funny in the air, something that Draco couldn't quite put his finger on, an aura that made him believe that the muggles couldn't come back, even if they wanted to, some force was keeping them out. He was sure it had something to do with Harry and his paranoid obsessions.

Regardless of these safeguards, Draco had to get out of here. He needed to go somewhere on the continent where he could rest until he was strong enough to apparate the both of them to America. But where? He would be instantly recognized in any wizarding community and he didn't dare risk the lives of the muggles by showing himself in one of their quiet, quaint villages.

Somewhere safe...

Something triggered in the back of his mind, a conversation that had taken place years before.

_"If you ever are in need of a safe haven," a soft, caring voice whispered to him, "if I'm not around to help, I want you to go here." He handed Draco a slip of paper. "You will find friends there, you'll be safe."_

Draco only hoped this place still existed, it's occupants still alive, still fighting for the right side. He repeated the address over and over in his head, making sure he remembered it correctly, and keeping this address firmly in the front of his mind, he apparated.

Landing on the doorstep, he looked up at the tall Victorian style house sandwiched between two others. The number on the front read 12.

"Draco, where are we?" Antigone spoke up.

"Somewhere safe. Hopefully."

"Who lives here?" She asked.

"I don't know, sweetheart." He knocked on the door. "Let's find out. Just keep real still, okay, Tig. Can you keep quiet for a bit, let me figure out what's going on?" He felt her nod into his chest. "Good girl."

He heard frantic footsteps scuttling around just inside the door. The occupants obviously weren't used to having company come knocking.

The door opened a crack, a head poking around it, the tip of a wand visible in the owner's hand. "Malfoy?!" The woman on the other side gasped, stunned. The door began to close.

_'Fuck.'_ Draco muttered to himself. He pushed his hand forward, stopping the door from closing. The force of him pushing opened the door slightly and he caught sight of the person inside. "Granger?"

"What are you doing here?" She was curious about the bundle he held in his arms and craned her head around to try and see.

Draco sensed her curiosity and pulled the comforter down from Antigone's face. "My sister. I was told this was a safe place to go."

Hermione opened the door the rest of the way, hesitantly letting Draco and Antigone inside, peering out the door to make sure he had not been followed. "I heard that the manor burned last-" she shook her head, "where did you hear about this place, there aren't any-" Hermione was utterly confused and stopped speaking so as to not give away too much information. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Antigone answered for herself, peeking out from where she had been curled against Draco's chest.

Hermione was not quite sure how to proceed, she seemed untrusting of him, and how could he blame her? The last time they had caught a glimpse of each other was the night that Harry had 'died.' "Granger, I know you don't trust me, but I-"

"Actually, it's Weasley." Hermione interrupted, nervously waving her left hand in front of him.

Draco didn't care. "Okay... Weasley then. Look, I just need a place to stay for the night so I can apparate back to America tomorrow. I'm not strong enough to do it today."

"Malfoy, I don't know what to- "

"If the Eaters find me, I'm dead in an instant, and so is she!" He spat, pulling Antigone close to him, hoping somehow she wouldn't have heard him.

She did, and she started to cry. "Daddy wouldn't hurt me, would he, Draco?"

"I don't know sweetheart, I don't know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell."

"You and Harry were yelling a lot this morning too, I woke up." She spoke innocently.

Draco shut his eyes and breathed out deeply. "Fuck." He whispered to himself.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks where she had been pacing back and forth. "What did she say?" She whispered, her face as white as a ghost.

Draco did not know how to respond. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he didn't have to, for at that moment, Ron Weasley burst through their front door, and he did not look happy. "Hermione, you wouldn't believe the shit that's happening this morning!" He threw down his cloak in the entrance hall, he didn't realize yet that he and Hermione were not alone. "All the shit that's going on with Malfoy Manor burning is just-" Ron chose that moment to look up towards the hallway where the odd pair were standing. "What the fuck is he doing here?!"

Hermione was still in shock after hearing Harry's name. She shook her head to clear it. "Ron, calm down, please, I think that-"

"No, I will not fucking calm down! Why is there a Death Eater standing in our house?!" He bellowed.

Draco had to admit, Ron had grown up since the last time he had seen him, five years ago. He had grown into his height, and now was terribly intimidating at a height of 6'2" and nothing but muscle. He had the look of someone who was always under stress.

Hermione did not respond to him, she instead turned to Draco. "Let me take her? There's a room of toys upstairs, Teddy Lupin visits often."

Draco nodded, grateful that Antigone wouldn't have to witness what was certain to be an explosive conversation, especially with the new information that Hermione was certain to bring up. Hermione pulled Antigone out of Draco's arms and rested her on her hip. "I'll take you upstairs, honey, there are some fun toys up there. Do you need a glass of water or anything?" Antigone shook her head no and Hemione started towards the stairs. Draco noticed that her gait was uneven, she walked with quite a limp.

Ron's face softened as he watched his wife walk away with the little girl in her arms. "Love, you know you shouldn't be lifting, not with-"

"It's fine, Ron. I'll be back in a minute. Refrain from killing him for a moment, okay, I think he has something to say that we need to hear." Ron nodded and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He headed towards what Draco assumed was the kitchen, his boots echoing loudly on the floor. A nod of Ron's head indicated to Draco that he wanted him to follow.

They entered the warm, homey kitchen. Ron still seemed extremely unsure of him but trusted his wife enough to know that she wouldn't let anyone dangerous into their home. He was very conflicted. He paced back and forth on the creaky floorboards.

Draco examined the details of this room carefully, the finishings on the walls, the crests, were similar to those in the manor, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he'd seen them before. "What is this place?" Draco broke the silence. He was determined for Ron Weasley to not get the better of him, he still had some dignity left.

Ron scrutinized him for a moment, but let out a deep breath and answered. "Well, you managed to gain the trust of one of the secret keepers to get this far. But who could have-" He saw confusion drawn onto Draco's face and explained further. "This house was placed under the fidelius charm ages ago, it's location is only known to those who are secret keepers. There are very few secret keepers left, and no one would have given it's location up to you, but obviously there's another person, someone we are unaware of." Ron looked worried. "Who told you about this place?"

Hermione re-entered the room, her hand resting on her hip, her face twisted as though she were in slight pain. "We were just getting to that point when you arrived, Ron." Ron stood to help her but she waved him off. She poured herself a cup of tea from the stove. "Tea?" Draco nodded.

He held the steaming cup in his hands, it was a slight comfort to him, knowing what was coming next. Ron's face became stony again. He went to speak, but Hermione's hand on his arm stopped him and he looked at her curiously. She was still pale as a ghost and tears were forming in her eyes. "What's the matter, Hermione?" He asked her softly, concerned.

"I- I think he's seen Harry."

It was though the world had stopped. There was no sound, no movement, nothing. Ron and Hermione stared intently at each other for what seemed to Draco like an eternity before Ron's head whipped towards Draco, who sat silent, a blank, unreadable expression on his face. "What?" Ron croaked out. Draco didn't speak. He could see the wheels turning in Ron's head and he let him process a bit more.

"Harry's dead, it's not possible." The memories of the night of the Battle of Hogwarts seemed to return to Ron quickly and he rose from his seat in anger. "You! You were there! You took his body, you bastard! What did you-" Hermione held him back.

"No." Draco shook his head, his face buried in his hands.

"How can you deny it? We saw you take his body away! You Know Who ordered you to-"

"No!" Draco's head snapped up, his former fight and fire back in his eyes. There was nothing he had enjoyed more in his childhood than arguing with Ron Weasley, and that hadn't changed.

"Are you saying you didn't do it? Was it not you we saw walk up to him, smile as though it was the greatest thing that had ever happened and then apparate away?"

"No, what I'm saying is, he wasn't dead!"

Ron's next words caught in his throat. He shook his head to make sure he had heard properly. "What? No, he was hit with Avada..."

Draco actually laughed. Ron hadn't changed at all, he was still as thick as ever. "As if that had ever stopped him before." His trademark smirk appeared on his face, finding it's place easily after years of absence. How had he ever thought that Ron was intimidating. "He was alive, I guarantee it."

"For how long? How long did your master keep him alive, torture him until he finally decided enough was enough and put him out of his misery?"

Draco snorted at Ron's assumption. "Think about what you've just said, Weasley. If I had brought Harry back to You Know Who, then theoretically I would have still been in his good books. With that in mind, think about my general absence from this world for the last five years and the multiple warrants for my arrest over that time. I'm sure you know just as well as I that I have not been loyal to him since sixth year. I saved your best friend's life, helped him recover."

"And he's still alive now?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"If he is alive, why hasn't he come back to us?" Ron asked at the same time, his expression almost as shocked as Hermione's.

"Alive? I suppose you could call it that. What he's doing isn't really living, not in my books anyway."

"And... and you saw him this morning? Is that what your sister was referring to?"

"I did."

"Why? I don't-" Ron stuttered. "If he even is still alive, why would he not- why would he see you- it doesn't make any-"

"Yesterday was the first time I'd seen him in almost five years. I came back from America because my sister was in trouble. You Know Who was there, at the manor. He burned it to the ground."

"You Know Who? Why would he- I thought your father was his closest-"

Draco shook his head. "You misunderstood. Potter was there, at the manor, trying to kill You Know Who, he burned it to the ground to try and get to him. Potter got my sister out, letting You Know Who get away in the process. He was so furious, we had to get out of there, out of his home, I mean. He's obsessed with You Know Who, he won't stop until he's dead."

"Until You Know Who's dead?" Hermione questioned, picking up the double meaning in Draco's words.

"Hard to say, like I said, I wouldn't call what Potter's doing, living." Draco shrugged and momentarily fell into his own thoughts, centred around the brooding, dark haired man.

"I knew it..." Hermione whimpered, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. "I knew he was still alive. Oh, Ron." She stood and buried herself into her husband's chest. Ron wrapped his arms tightly around her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. He still didn't buy it. "Who else could have been keeping this world alive, merlin knows we're trying, but there's so few of us left, and yet, every day there are more victories, we never knew where they came from." She sobbed. "We need to see him."

Ron's eyes bored into Draco. "I still don't believe you. Why should I? We don't know what you've been up to all this time, where you've been. This could all be an elaborate plan to-"

"Believe what you want, that's how it is." Draco stood from the table, tired of being around these people. He'd never been able to tolerate them in school, why would it be any different now. "I'll be leaving first thing in the morning." He strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs, towards Antigone.

Ron watched him retreat up the stairs, he didn't trust the blond man, never had. Hermione was beginning to calm in his arms. "You can't possibly believe him, Hermione?" He whispered softly into her ear.

She nodded against him. "I do. I believe her too, children don't lie. She's a sweet child, Ron, who's been through far too much. Malfoy's all she has left, Lucius killed their mother only months ago. She mentioned Harry when they showed up, he saved her from the manor. If not for her accidently mentioning him, Malfoy would not have mentioned him. It only makes sense though, who else would have given him this address?"

"But if everything else he said was true, Harry didn't seem civil enough to kick him out and then give him a safe place to go. It just doesn't sound like the Harry that we knew."

"Ron, Harry Potter may still be living, but that doesn't mean that the Harry we knew is still alive. You must have noticed it in those days before the battle, Harry was slipping away from us, from Ginny, there was something different about him, something darker." She paused. "Malfoy said he helped Harry recover after the battle, maybe he told him then, as a thank you."

"I don't know... I just don't know." His brow furrowed as a thought hit him. "How are we gonna tell Gin? It's only a miracle that she didn't come home tonight and see this, it would have killed her." Hermione sighed, she did not have a response. "I still don't trust him."

"Well I do. It's only until the morning anyway. He's not going to do anything. He loves his sister desperately, he wouldn't do anything that would separate him from her." Hermione took a sharp breath and clutched her side. A few deep breaths and the pain seemed to pass.

"Love, you overexerted yourself, lifting her. With your injury and the baby-"

"I know, but she was such a sweet little girl, and I don't know if our child-" She dissolved into tears.

"Oh, Hermione, our child is going to be just fine." He kissed her forehead. Truly, their chances were more than likely that they would lose the baby before it was born. After the torture Hermione had experienced under the cruel hand of Bellatrix Lestrange and a broken pelvis in a skirmish only a few months after the battle, Hermione's health had been touch and go. The pregnancy had been a shock, Hermione had been told that they would never conceive. They took a great risk, keeping the pregnancy, but neither had the heart to not at least give it a chance to succeed.

Ron led her to the sitting room and sat her down on one of the couches. He handed her another steaming cup of tea and rubbed her leg soothingly as she calmed down.

"I have to see him..." Hermione whispered once again.

Ron could say nothing, there was no changing her mind.

For the rest of the day, Draco stayed distant from the pair of Weasleys. This was merely a place to stay, he didn't want useless conversation getting in the way. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how Harry had stood being around them all those years.

Other than getting food and water for himself and Antigone, they stayed in the room that Hermione had taken Antigone to. They played, and read books, and rested. Draco could feel his magic slowly returning to full strength, there would be no excuse for not leaving tomorrow. He thought of his neighbours in the muggle apartment building where he lived in New York. They would all be so thrilled to see Antigone, the mysterious sister that Draco had spoken of so often. These friends had become his family and he couldn't wait to get back to them.

Draco kept rubbing at his chest all afternoon, the dragon pendant was slightly warm, confusing emotions flowing through it. What made it strange was that Antigone was not holding the plush dragon that was the pendant's twin. "Tig, where's your dragon?" He asked her.

Antigone shook her head. She stood and pulled the comforter up, expecting it to fall out of its folds. It was not there. "He's missing!" Tears welled up in her eyes. "Where is he? I had him with me this morning. I need him, Draco, he protects me."

_'Fuck.'_ Draco thought to himself.

"I think he's at Harry's, Draco. I need him back!" She cried.

"We can't go back there, Tig, he doesn't want to see us there. Here." He picked up another plush animal and transfigured it into a dragon.

"It's not the same!" She threw it. "He protected us! Me and mommy."

"Shh, Tig, it'll be okay. But we really can't go back there."

Antigone was inconsolable for a while, but finally drifted off to sleep. Draco breathed a sigh of relief when she did. He moved her to the small room Hermione had shown him shortly before and he lay down next to her on the bed. He would need to get a good sleep that night as well. It took him a while, but he finally drifted off, the pendant laying heavily in the palm of his hand, perplexed why such strong emotion was flowing through it, only the touch of someone emotionally attached to the one who wore the pendant would transmit feelings this strong. Draco drifted to sleep, curious hope flitting through his mind.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Harry sat in his living room, his body slouched low in the large chair that sat in the middle of the room. His eyes were glazed over, staring blankly ahead. His right hand clutched a glass of amber liquid which rested on the arm of the chair, a cigarette perched between two of the fingers holding the glass. He brought the glass up to his lips automatically, his gaze not moving from the blurry spot he stared at on the wall.

This was the worst shape Harry had ever been in, and not just physically, though the wound in his side was one of the worst he had ever had. His mind was what truly pained him. He had been so close, if not for that little girl- stop- how could he even think that, since when had he ever regretted saving an innocent life? But this had been his one great chance! He had planned for months to pull off his attack on Malfoy Manor, still one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of wizarding England.

The snake, Nagini, had been there. She was all that stood between Harry and finally attacking Voldemort one on one.

For months, he had been gaining information about the manor, capturing and torturing Death Eaters for information about the layout, meeting patterns and inner circle of Voldemort's followers. He was very good and had received all the information he needed to pull it off.

The memory of the girl's scream pulled him out of his stupor. Her icy blue eyes were burned into his mind. He turned his head lethargically towards his front door where they had left from. Laying on the ground in the hallway was a plush green dragon. He had seen the girl carrying it, he thought her name was Antigone, but his mind was fuzzy, he couldn't remember. He stood and stumbled forwards, a combination of alcohol, lack of sleep and his injuries making it difficult for him to stay upright. It was pretty pathetic.

He grabbed the stuffed animal from the floor and collapsed back into his chair. Why did he have to show up again, especially now? The blue eyes shifted into his grey ones, boring into his soul. Such familiar eyes, eyes that belonged to- no! Harry pushed the image out of his mind, gripping the dragon hard in frustration. He forced himself to stop thinking of the past, the past was gone, no longer relevant. None of it mattered. All that mattered now was that he get to Voldemort.

He put the dragon down beside him, squished between his hip and the arm of the chair. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the piece of silver that lay on his coffee table. Not the sword of Gryffindor, no this was a Smith and Wesson 500, the most powerful production handgun ever made. His tactics would have to change if he was ever going to defeat Voldemort.

He had acquired the gun recently and had tested it out a few times during his raids. It served to put fear in the eyes of the Death Eaters who had never before seen the muggle killing device. He picked it up off the table, its five pounds of weight heavy in Harry's hand. His mouth turned into a faint smile as he stared at it.

Harry was drawn back to thoughts of Draco, the cool metal colour of the gun reminding him of Draco's eyes.

Those eyes had stared down at Harry on the day of the battle at Hogwarts. Harry's eyes had barely been open, he had been terrified that Voldemort would find out he was still alive. He was barely conscious, but he remembered those silver eyes staring down at him, pleading Harry to trust him. _"Trust me, let me save you."_ Those words burned in Harry's memory, he could never let them go. Even now, they sent shivers through him, his eyes closed.

Draco had been thrown back into his life. Why had he let him stay? He couldn't let this happen again. He couldn't- He stood abruptly from the chair, tucking the gun into the holster that lay attached to his hip. The weight felt comfortable there, made him feel a little more in control.

He knew his thoughts weren't right, they didn't make sense, nothing made sense anymore, his life consisted only of revenge, what kind of life was that anyway?

He paced the room, raking his fingers through his hair. The air around him crackled with unbridled energy and he had to act quickly to calm himself, to restrain the magic that instinctually flowed out of him. Since throwing out his morals and scruples about the kinds of magic that were 'right' to use, Harry had become immensely powerful, and no longer owned a wand of any kind. Even spells were no longer necessary to Harry's using magic. Just a thought about what he wanted done was usually enough and the magic around him would spring into action and make it happen.

Other than his magic, Harry had also trained himself physically, the lithe muscles that covered his body were proof enough of that. His physical prowess in battle gave him the upper hand over most of the middle aged Death Eaters he was accustomed to fighting, none ever expected a physical confrontation.

He recalled the terror in Wormtail's eyes the previous night when Harry's strength had overpowered him. Glancing up at Voldemort, Harry had seen a similar fear in his features. This made Harry grin, he had given Voldemort something he had never expected, an enemy almost as ruthless as he was. Last night, Voldemort had witnessed what he had helped create, and it had been monstrous.

This reaction from Voldemort was just what Harry had been hoping for, he was worried, frightened, he had a worthy adversary. Harry was getting to him. Now he just had to keep at it, never let up, and victory would be in his hands.

Harry laughed bitterly, it was funny really, without the help of Voldemort, without him taking away everything that Harry had held dear, Harry never would have been a threat, he would have been weak. But every time Voldemort had tried to kill Harry, had attacked his friends, killed those dear to him, he was unknowingly creating the man who would eventually be his downfall.

Voldemort gave Harry purpose in life, kept him living, breathing, functioning. Harry had never even stopped to ponder what his life would be like when he finally rid himself of his mortal enemy. In fact, Harry had never pondered a scenario where he actually made it out of the final battle alive. Barring some miracle he did escape with his life after defeating the Dark Lord, Harry didn't intend to stick around much longer afterwards. What would he have left to live for? What purpose could he fulfil?

Harry sat back down on the chair, lighting up another cigarette. He had brooded on these thoughts all day, the darkness outside now creeping into his living room. The faint orange glow from the lit cigarette cast eerie shadows on Harry's face, making him seem ominous and frightening. He picked up the stuffed dragon once again, not even realizing he had done it. His thoughts unconsciously drifted back to those he wanted to dwell on no more. His giddy bitterness faded, replaced by only the sad musings of a lonely and depressed young man.

What had he become? Why hadn't he been worried for Draco's sister, she was a helpless little girl. The only reason he had saved her was because he convinced himself that it would be the right thing to do, it had not been an instinct. This disturbed Harry. Had he become so detached from the world that he could not even worry for the safety of a little girl anymore?

His mind slowly shut down, artificially subdued by the various substances he had ingested throughout the day. On the brink of complete unconsciousness, he felt a vague tingle in his fingers, emanating out from the dragon. His eyes flew open, a sort of manic grin on his face.

Sudden pain shot through his head, the familiar burning, excruciating pain of his scar that had become so familiar to him over the last twelve years. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay conscious, any vision he saw now could be the one to change the tide in his favour.

_Voldemort stood in a room, Lucius stood next to him. Nagini still lay in her regular spot, coiled around Voldemort's shoulders. The two men spoke. Bellatrix and a few other Eaters stood around, Voldemort never went anywhere now without a complete entourage. The two men spoke, both with confident smiles on their faces. Harry could hear every word they said._

Coming out of the vision, Harry could not stop laughing. This was perfect! He had another chance! Draco had actually brought him something of use. He looked down at the plush dragon in his hands, how could he have not felt it before? It was so blatantly apparent now. He could sense the magic of the tracking charm on the stuffed toy, put there by Lucius on the night of the fire. This would work out all too well.

Lucius, or Minister Malfoy as the rest of the world now knew him as, had made a public statement that morning, assuring the public of his safety after the burning of his home, and assuring them that whoever was responsible would be brought to justice.

_The Minister had stood at his grand podium in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Dressed in some of his finest robes, he painted an imposing portrait for all his underlings at the Ministry. All respected him, most thought he was intimidating and a scant few were actually petrified of their minister. That was all well for Lucius, fear would keep them in line better than respect._

_ Ministry workers had been concerned for the safety of their Minister until he had finally shown up, two hours late, that morning. All had heard of the misfortune at Malfoy Manor and were thoroughly relieved when he finally showed up. All stood still, paying rapt attention as he stood before them, preparing to address them._

_"Wizards and Witches," he had started, a coy smile upon his face, "as you can see, I have escaped unharmed from last night's attack on my home." Many cheers rose from the crowd at this statement. The public had become very supportive of their new minister in recent months. "Many of you must be wondering who would be cruel enough to do something like this to someone trying to help and better this society." Nods and shouts of agreement came from the crowd. "Well, I can tell you now that those who set fire to my home were the same people who framed me for my alleged involvement in the Department of Mysteries scandal. The same rebellious organization that put me behind the bars of Azkaban for a crime I did not commit. But I escaped from that hell, just the same as I did this one, not injured or unstable, but stronger than when I began. The rogue members of the Order of the Phoenix have caused my Ministry nothing but trouble since the day I came into power. Their misguided views on my intentions for this country have led them to acts of terrorism. They are undermining your faith in me, you, the masses, who have elected me to lead this country. They are nothing but the remnants of those loyal to a senile old man. From this moment forward, any man, woman or child found to be tied to this resistance group, any known or suspected members of the Order of the Phoenix continuing to remain loyal to their unjust cause will be arrested and dealt with accordingly." Lucius bellowed over the crowd. His voice held strength, as did his stance, the people trusted him. All who had gathered to witness the Minister speak, and all who listened over the WWN gave their cheer of agreement._

Harry smiled one last time before falling into artificial unconsciousness. The Minister's days were numbered, he guaranteed it. Soon, the wizarding world would be plunged into uncertainty, and they would have to dig themselves out this time, nobody, neither good or evil would be there to pull them out. For the first time since Voldemort had first risen to power before Harry was born, the world would have a choice.

If anyone had been able to see the Boy Who Lived now, they would have wondered where they had gone wrong? How had the once bright, happy boy become this? Unconscious, depressed and utterly numb. His parents, Sirius, Remus, they would all have been so disappointed.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

The first light of the morning was just peeking through the windows at number twelve Grimmauld Place, but both Ron and Hermione were wide awake. Neither had been able to sleep much the night before, their thoughts unable to focus on anything but Harry.

The pair still lay in bed, neither had the energy to get up and face the day. Ron's arms were firmly wrapped around Hermione, her back lay flush against his chest. He rubbed her stomach and leg absently, soothingly.

"You awake, love?" He whispered into her ear and kissed her exposed shoulder.

"Didn't sleep a wink." She muttered, her voice was hoarse from crying and exhaustion.

"Me either. I just don't know if I can believe it." Ron's voice held so much skepticism, yet at the same time, so much restrained hope and joy that their best friend may still be alive.

"How else would Malfoy have found his way here? If the Eaters knew about Grimmauld, we would have been dead ages ago. The only other Order members aware of this location are your mother, Ginny, Bill and Luna. None of them would have said anything."

At the mention of his sister, Ron tensed slightly. "Gin-"

"Don't worry, I heard her come in late last night. Contrary to your belief, you did sleep for a while. Snored like a pig, too." Hermione squirmed in his arms and turned to face him. They both chuckled, but the laughs didn't go any deeper than the false expressions on their faces. "I hope Malfoy and his sister leave before she wakes up. I would worry for his safety if they met here. I think Gin took it harder than any of us when Harry- 'died.'"

"How could she not, they were in love, she was head over heels, always had been."

"And always will be, I know. That's why she can't know, not ever. Even if Harry is alive, which I do truly believe," a genuine smile appeared on Hermione's face, "I also believe that what Malfoy says is true, that he's barely a shell of the person that we knew. You should know as well as I do that Harry always had a darker side lurking under the surface. He was always trying to shut us out, keep us from harm. If Ginny learns he's been alive all this time and never come to see her, it would be far more painful for her than if he had actually died."

Ron sighed deeply. "I know you're right, but I can't lie to my sister. If she asks, if she finds out Malfoy's here, I will tell her."

Hermione nodded. "I know." Both fell silent, taking comfort in each others presence.

"It makes sense, you know." Ron spoke up hesitantly. He was coming around, putting the facts together. "Who else could be carrying out all these raids? The Order is dead. Sure, we try, but there are maybe two dozen of us left, and our numbers keep falling. Other than my family and a few holdouts from Hogwarts, most have either been killed, switched sides or gone into hiding."

"Death Eaters have been dying mysteriously for years, whole groups of them turning up dead. I could never come up with a good explanation, but now it all fits. And the numbers have grown much greater in recent months. It's building up to something. And if, again, what Malfoy said is true, if it was Harry who burned down the manor in a direct attempt on You Know Who, Harry's become much more reckless than I could have ever imagined. I just find it so hard to believe, and maybe it's because I still picture Harry as the scrawny little boy with glasses, that he could be the only one behind all the raids. I... I don't know if I'd want to see him like that."

"No matter what he's become, I would give anything to see my best friend again."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Yes, you're right." She shook her head to clear her dark thoughts. "I don't think I would ever pass up an opportunity to see Harry again." She leaned forwards and she and Ron shared a soft, comforting kiss.

"Did you hear his sister crying last night?" Ron asked, hesitant to break the silence.

"Antigone? Yeah, I did. I just hope Ginny didn't, we don't need her asking questions. The poor little girl, living in that house with Lucius and Voldemort there all the time. I thought Narcissa was still alive, but now-"

Ron shook his head. "I never told you, it wasn't important at the time. She was murdered a few months back. Covered up completely, never released to the public. Bill dealt with the transferring of her bank assets. Malfoy and the girl got everything."

"Dear merlin, that means she's been only around Death Eaters for the last few months." She paused. "Malfoy seemed so protective of her. They'll both be better off, going back to America."

"I always wondered what had happened to him. After... after he took Harry away and the Eaters took over the Ministry, he never turned up again. I thought it was just a public show that they were searching for him, do you remember the posters were everywhere? Of course they weren't going to announce that he'd defected, but I suppose that's what happened." Ron chuckled slightly. "I guess Harry couldn't stand him for very long though, sounds like as soon as Harry was back on his feet he booked it. I guess he's still an insufferable bastard even if he does save your life."

Hermione cast her eyes down and did not laugh with him. "I think it was very brave what Draco did, if that's indeed what happened. To betray You Know Who like that, right in front of him. He could have been killed right there. Harry too, if he had known he was still alive."

"You're right." Ron kissed her on the forehead. "I'm sorry."

"I wouldn't worry too much Ron, I've known you long enough to ignore most of the stupid things that come out of your mouth." She smiled.

"Cheeky." The kissed again and settled down into another comfortable but sad silence. They still had plenty of time before they needed to get up and greet the day.

Draco stared lovingly down at Antigone, finally back to sleep after her terrible night of nightmares. All night she had cried out for their mother, crying also for the dragon that was now the only physical thing left that reminded her of the good times in her former home. Draco's heart was breaking, he felt that he had no choice now but to retrieve the dragon.

He didn't want to go back, he couldn't. He was afraid of what Harry would do to him if he went back, he was afraid of what they would say to each other, but mostly he was afraid that if he went and saw that poor, broken man again that he wouldn't be able to leave him.

Draco closed his eyes, letting an image flow into his mind, one of many that he bad both tried to repress and yet desperately clung to. The image of bright emerald eyes we burned permanently into his mind, their warm, smiling gaze boring into his soul. He felt safe in this memory. He hadn't felt that way in a very long time.

He had to go back. He had no choice now. He had to go, not only for his sister, but himself. He had to sever himself from the ebony haired man once and for all, it was for his own good. Then they would go back to America.

"Time to wake up, Tig." He shook her gently and whispered in her ear.

Antigone whimpered and rolled over. "Do I have to, Draco? I'm all warm and cozy."

"Yes, sweetheart. We have to get up so we can go to our new home. I have to go somewhere first, but as soon as I get back, we'll leave, okay? Will you be okay staying with Hermione for an hour or two?"

Antigone nodded vigorously. "She was very nice. She said that she was going to be a mommy soon. Mommy's are always nice."

Draco understood now why Ron had been so protective of her, she didn't look well. Not that it was any concern of his, of course, but it made sense.

"Can't I go with you, Draco? Please?"

"Sorry, Tig, grownup business. You'd be very bored."

"Are you going to get my dragon back?"

Sometimes Draco wondered how children were so perceptive. "Yes, Tig, I'm going to try, anyway."

Antigone practically squealed in delight. "Yay!" She shot up out of the bed, forgetting how only moments before she did not want to leave her nice warm, cozy bed. Her feet pounded loudly on the wood floor and Draco was sure her steps were echoing loudly through the house.

"Keep it down, you little monkey." He laughed, but his face darkened. He did not know who it was, but he had heard another person return home the previous night and he wanted to keep their stay here as low profile as possible. He would do nothing to jeopardize his sister's safety, or his own for that matter.

Draco rolled out of the comfortable bed and ran his fingers through his hair to clear out all the tangles, he was sure it looked a mess. Antigone's didn't look any better for that matter, though her hair held a slight curl, the same as Narcissa's had. He would find a brush for her later.

"Come on." He held out his hand for her.

She took it but refused to move. "Up." She demanded.

Not one to take orders easily, Draco dropped her hand and stared down at her questioningly. "Excuse me?"

"Up, please?" She changed her tone and Draco could not resist her. He picked her up easily and she sat on his shoulders.

They left the room, Draco making sure Antigone did not bump her head on the way out. Reaching the bottom of the stairs and entering the kitchen, Ron and Hermione stopped talking immediately. They had obviously been talking about something they didn't want him to hear. He did have to admit, they were placing much more trust in him than he had ever thought possible, the fact that he had a child with him probably helped a little.

Neither party spoke. It was Antigone who broke the silence. "Good morning!" She squirmed around on Draco's shoulders and he let her down. She ran to Hermione. "Draco says that I-"

"Antigone." Draco sternly called her name and she was quiet. He looked up from her so he was looking at Ron and Hermione. "Thank you for letting us stay the night, I know how conflicted you must have been about it. I assure you we will be leaving as quickly as possible but there's one thing I need to do first. I'll only be an hour or so. Would you mind watching Antigone while I'm gone?" It killed Draco to ask so politely, but he had no other option.

Hermione nodded instantly. "Sure, o- of course. You really don't need to be in so much of a hurry though, sit down, you must be hungry. Toast?" She stood and moved to the counter.

"Okay, sure." Draco scratched the back of his head. This situation was eerily surreal.

Ron watched him like a hawk the whole meal. Draco noticed that both Ron and Hermione had opened their mouths multiple times, as if to start asking a question, but then thought better of it. Draco thought that they were wanting to ask more about Harry, but were afraid to hear the answers.

Draco stood abruptly from the table as soon as he had finished his last bite. "Well, I'll be back shortly. You be good, Tig, okay?" He bent over and kissed the top of her head. She just smiled up at him and nodded, as if to say 'aren't I always?'

Draco turned and left the room, unconsciously resting his hand on his wand, which rested on his left hip.

Hermione drew her own wand and pointed it at him from under the table. She whispered a quick spell before putting it back.

"What did you do?" Ron whispered to her, not wanting Antigone to hear.

"Tracking spell. I'm following him." She stood from her seat and knelt before Antigone. She spoke to her before Ron could respond. "Antigone, I have to go do some shopping, is it all right if you just stay here with Ron? He's a lot of fun to play with, I promise."

Antigone shrugged. "Okay. Can I go back upstairs and play?"

"Course you can, honey. Go on."

Antigone jumped down from her chair and raced up the stairs.

"You are not going after him!" Ron growled at her.

Hermione was already pulling on her coat. "I have to. We need to know what he's up to, where he's going. He might be going to see-"

"Yeah, I figured that part out already. That's why you can't go, it could be dangerous." Hermione's face was set, she was determined to go. "I won't let you go by yourself."

"Well, you're just going to have to, we can't leave Antigone here by herself." Hermione was walking quickly to the front door, she couldn't let Draco get too many steps ahead of her.

"Let me go instead, Hermione, this is reckless, I'm worried about you, especially after yesterday."

Hermione stopped and turned to face him. "I'll be back soon." She said softly and stood on her toes to kiss him softly. "Love you." She cast a disillusionment charm on herself, walked out the door and disapparated.

Draco arrived in front of the familiar run down house. The neighbourhood was still utterly empty. He walked up the driveway towards the front door. His hands were in his pockets, he was arguing with himself whether this was a good idea or not.

"I shouldn't be here." He told himself. "Why did I come?" He turned around to walk away but immediately changed his mind and moved towards the house again. "He'll be furious when he sees me." The same nagging thought kept entering his mind. "But the dragon. It has to mean something. I wouldn't have felt anything through it unless he-" Draco snorted. "No, now that's just stupid."

He argued with himself for another few minutes before finally taking a deep breath and knocking on the door. Surely the wards Harry had on the house would have alerted him to Draco's presence already. Nobody answered. He waited a couple minutes but there was still no answer. He knocked again, practically pounding on the door this time. His nerve began to leave him the longer he stood in front of the closed door.

There was still no answer. It was possible that he wasn't home. Draco sighed and turned to leave. As he was walking away he heard a slight thud, and the front door of the house opened. Draco turned back towards the open door and his breath hitched in his throat. Harry looked terrible. He leaned against the door frame, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He wore only pants and Draco could see that the wound on his side was still bleeding a little, though it looked better than it had the day before.

He looked like he could barely stand, he was swaying slightly, his eyes glazed. What shocked Draco the most, though, was the very large gun he held in his hand, pointed out the door.

Harry seemed to finally realize who stood in front of his house and clicked off the hammer of the gun, it had been ready to fire. He replaced the gun in the holster at his side. "What do you want?" He sneered at Draco, but seemed to relax slightly.

"I think Antigone left her dragon here." He stated. He felt silly even mentioning it.

"Yeah, she did. Come in." Harry turned and motioned with his head for Draco to enter.

Draco felt an odd breeze brush by him as he tentatively entered the house and shut the door behind him.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The dark, dank room was filled with black robed individuals. These men and women stood waiting expectantly, their intimidating silver masks covering their faces. The room where they waited was obviously underground, the stone walls dripped with moisture and moss grew in certain places on them. Everything was wet, the air musty and old.

Three figures stood in front of the rest, but all faced the same direction. The low murmur that filled the room was silenced immediately as the air began to crackle and a few moments later, their master, Lord Voldemort himself, appeared in front of them. All bowed down low as he took his place standing before them.

Lord Voldemort seemed to blend in perfectly with the damp, depressing setting surrounding him, his pale skin, sunken features and red slit eyes were not out of place here. Even though there was no breeze his gossamer robes still seemed to float out around him. His animal companion, Nagini, hung gracefully from his shoulders.

"My Lord." Lucius stepped forward and bowed low. Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus followed close behind.

"Ah, Lucius, good to see you still intact after our last encounter." Voldemort remarked dryly.

"You as well, my Lord." Lucius bowed again. "You must forgive me, my Lord, there is no way the boy should have been able to-"

Voldemort held up his hand and Lucius fell silent. "Come now, Lucius," he grinned, stroking Nagini's head with the knuckle of his finger, "how I could ever expect you to predict the return of Harry Potter is just absurd." The amusement in Voldemort's voice dropped. "I do, however, hold you directly responsible for allowing your daughter to escape! You know how important she is to my plan! You remember our agreement, don't you Lucius, why she was conceived in the first place?"

"Y-yes, of course, my Lord, but-"

"Crucio!" Voldemort screamed, pointing his yew wand towards Lucius.

Lucius screamed once quickly and fell to his knees. He breathed deeply to regain control of himself and quickly righted. "I'm sorry, my Lord, please forgive me." His voice was shaky with pain.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus chuckled behind him. Lucius could picture the look on Bellatrix's face, a sadistic grin most likely covering his sister in-law's face.

"I thought you might enjoy that, Bellatrix." Voldemort spoke to his closest female servant.

"Always, my Lord." She breathed seductively back at him.

"Back to the point at hand, Lucius. How do you intend to retrieve your daughter? The date is drawing near."

"Not to worry, my Lord." Lucius grinned up at him. "It so happens that she can be tracked. She carries a stuffed dragon with her at all times, I have never seen her without it in recent years. I placed a tracking device on it after my wife's unfortunate departure." Lucius' lip curled up in a malicious smile. "Just in case the little brat tried to run away. Fortunately, Bellatrix has been an excellent replacement mother for the child and we had not run into that scenario."

"Sweet child." Bellatrix cooed disturbingly. "Not very obedient, but that can be remedied in time."

Voldemort joined in chuckling with his three closest Eaters. "Ah, but Bellatrix," Voldemort's cool voice trickled over them, "when all goes according to plan, there will be no need."

"The tracking signal had not moved for days, my Lord. On your command we are ready to move out and retrieve her. Wormtail's loss has not affected our efficiency or strength."

"I could have told you that, Lucius." He chuckled to himself. "Where is she located? Who is she with?"

"A house just outside muggle London. It is not warded or guarded, I've had men scouting it just this morning. I wanted to wait on your orders before moving in. As for who is with her, who got her out, it's difficult to say. Taking Harry's actions and demeanour at the manor into account, I'm not sure he would have stayed to help her." Lucius could see that Voldemort required a better explanation than that. "I think, my Lord, that my son may have returned. As we were leaving the manor I felt a pull on the wards, the family wards. There is nobody else it could have been."

This information brought a grin to Voldemort's face. "Well, it seems that young Draco has returned to us after all these years. He and I need to have a little chat, I think, after the stunt he pulled."

Lucius' face paled slightly. "Of course, my Lord, he deserves nothing less."

"You are truly a great father Lucius, for recognizing your children's many uses to me over the years. It's only a shame that the Malfoy name will soon be no more, you will have no more children to carry on your noble family."

"I suppose every great family comes to an end at one time or another, my Lord." A slight sadness passed over Lucius' face.

"What about Harry Potter, my Lord?" Bellatrix spoke up.

Voldemort clenched his jaw, not noticeable to any but those closest to him. "Harry Potter is a nuisance, he always has been and always will be. Now that we are once again extremely aware of his presence, I will be conducting more raids than ever, in an attempt to flush him out. He's become reckless, as was shown the other night. His anger will make him easy to lure." Voldemort spoke confidently, but underneath, a small flicker of what some would call worry was beginning to pop up. He had seen into the boy's eyes and found nothing, nothing left of the cocky teenager he had last fought against. This Harry was different. He didn't know what to expect.

"Yes." Lucius agreed. "Once he's out of the way, your plans for my daughter will commence once again. The public is throwing their support behind the Ministry now more than ever, and with the upcoming ritual the few who still oppose your rule will be swayed."

"Good. We shall act this afternoon. Myself, Lucius, Bellatrix and Rodolphus will go to this residence and retrieve the girl. Lucius, gather another half dozen men for further support to guard the outside of the house. No surprises this time."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Now, let's go over the plans for the ritual once again."

Once the plans had been discussed, every detail planned to perfection, Voldemort addressed his followers one last time. "The time is almost here, my loyal companions, my rule is almost secured." The mass of Death Eaters bowed to him one last time before he disapparated with a crack.

Most of the Death Eaters followed, leaving only the three most loyal. "Bella, once we retrieve my daughter, you'll be in charge of her once again."

"Always a pleasure, Lucius. Like I said, she was such a sweet girl." She smiled unnervingly. "We'll see you this afternoon Lucius." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Come, Rodolphus, we need to find something to do until this afternoon." She pulled excitedly on his hand and they began to run, laughing maniacally as they did, disappearing with the familiar crack of apparition.

Lucius found himself standing alone in the damp, dark underground cavern. The cold began to seep into his bones and he felt a chill run up his spine. The cold wasn't the only thing that sent a chill through him, though, there was something troubling him, something he hadn't dare bring up before the Dark Lord. His son was back, for what reason he did not know, but it couldn't just be a coincidence that he showed up on the same night that Harry Potter mysteriously appeared again, especially when it had been Draco that helped Potter escape in the first place. He had a strange feeling that if Draco was with Antigone and the stuffed dragon, that the Potter boy would be there too.

A pang of something Lucius couldn't identify surged through him when he thought of himself being the very last of the Malfoy line, once this plan had been carried out. Regret perhaps. Regret that he hadn't been a good enough father, regret that he couldn't lead his only son down the proper path. If only he had been harder on Draco, more vigilant in his early education, perhaps he wouldn't have failed in his task to kill Dumbledore, perhaps he wouldn't have deserted his Master's cause. Perhaps he wouldn't have made the ultimate betrayal and saved the Golden Boy, Potter. If only he had been a better father, he wouldn't have to be present at the death of his family tree. But, if doing this, allowing his proud family to turn to ash, would help his Master succeed in his ultimate goal, then there was nothing he wouldn't do to help.

It sure was a pity.

Lucius shook his head and sighed. It was just one of those things that had to be done, he supposed. He cast a quick spell to make sure the traced dragon was still in the same location. It was. He apparated away, the last of the light flickering out in the cavern, plunging it into complete darkness, the only thing left was the steady sound of dripping as the water seeped through the stone walls.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione landed in the same spot where Draco had only a few moments earlier. She was momentarily dizzy but shook it off. Looking around, she saw Draco, pacing up and down the driveway of a particular house. He seemed to be arguing with himself. She strode quietly forwards, needing to stay close so as to not miss anything.

Hermione didn't t know what to think. At first she had thought that Draco was going to see Harry, but there was no way he would be staying here. This house was almost falling apart and there were no wards of any kind protecting it.

Coming to this conclusion, Hermione started to think that it was a bad idea to have followed Draco, she now had no idea what to expect, who would be on the other side of the door. Her heart began to beat faster as Draco seemed to finally kick up the nerve to knock on the door. She waited in just as much anticipation as he did for the few minutes when nobody answered.

She crept even closer, knowing she wouldn't have much time once the door opened to get inside. Draco still looked torn, he turned and looked like he was ready to leave, when the door finally opened.

Hermione panicked when she saw the man who had opened the door, she really shouldn't have come, this man was obviously a Death Eater, he-

Her heart nearly stopped as the man looked out the door, his gaze peering right through her. Those green eyes. It was Harry. But it couldn't be, this man was battered and broken and empty and... drunk. His gun caught her gaze as he replaced it in his holster. This man was terrifying. She had been right before. This man was not Harry, not the one she knew anyway.

She almost missed her chance to enter the house as Harry moved aside to let Draco in. She ran forwards, hoping neither would hear her footsteps. She almost brushed Draco as she squeezed in behind him just before the door closed.

It took all the restraint she had to level out her breathing and keep herself from bursting into tears. She covered her mouth with her hand, forcing herself to calm. This man, no, this warrior, intimidated her more than anybody she had ever seen in her life. He wore no shirt, his scars and wounds easily visible. He was muscular, more than she ever thought his small frame could become. Harry glanced back at her once more before leading Draco further into the house. He couldn't know she was there.

Draco stood nervously in the middle of Harry's living room, unsure of what to do or what to say. Harry didn't speak, he merely continued his path across the room, picking up a glass of amber liquid along the way and tossing it back into his mouth. He slammed the glass loudly onto the table as he sat himself down in the large armchair. He shifted, pulling the gun out of the holster and placing it on the table in front of him. He sat expectantly. He obviously was waiting for Draco to speak. He did.

"Look, Potter, I know I shouldn't have come, I took a great risk coming back here, I know you don't want to see-"

Harry chuckled bitterly. "You're right, I don't fucking want to see you, and yet, here you sit." His voice was deep and hoarse, the sound of it startled Hermione.

"I wouldn't have come back if it wasn't important."

"I don't exactly consider a stuffed dragon of great import." Harry raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

"Well my sister does. It's the only thing she has left to remind her of our mother." Draco's voice saddened at the mention of his mother.

Harry's expression did not change, no ounce of sympathy crossed his features. He leaned over the table to reach for his pack of cigarettes and though it was barely noticeable, Hermione could have sworn she saw him wince, his hand going to his side. He recovered quickly and removed a cigarette from the pack and lit it. The motion was so quick but Hermione didn't see a lighter. She blinked. Had the flame just come out of his hand?

"That's right." He blew the smoke dramatically as he spoke. "Your father was responsible for that one if I recall correctly." He stood and paced.

"And how the hell would you know that?!" Draco stood as well, his expression darkening to the familiar expression Hermione was used to seeing on his face, taking a few steps towards Harry but seemingly not wanting to get too close.

Harry only chuckled. "You forget how intimately connected I am with the forces of evil." He tapped his forehead, the cigarette dangling between his fingers as he did.

Draco took a deep breath. He didn't want to argue with Harry, not now. "Can I just grab the stupid thing and get out of here. I know it'll make us both much happier once I'm out of here again."

"Why did you come here?" Harry asked the seemingly obvious, already answered question.

Draco looked frustrated, but also conflicted and confused. "Stop asking stupid questions Potter, you know why I'm here."

"I have an idea. Do you?" Harry baited Draco. It's like he was looking for a fight.

Draco seemed to contemplate the question for a moment, but quickly retorted. "I don't know what you're trying to do, Potter, but cut the shit! I won't play your game!"

Harry strode close to Draco, closer than Hermione would have thought comfortable for either. "I'm not playing at anything." The two men locked eyes and for a moment their expressions mirrored each others perfectly. Hermione was missing a crucial piece of information here. A slight twitch in Harry's face broke the gaze and Harry turned away, heading to a small room off the main living area.

Draco stood, stuck in place for a moment before he shook his head and broke out of his stupor. She thought he looked incredibly pained. He suddenly clutched the top of his chest, his eyes widening, then his features fell into what was possibly the saddest expression she'd ever seen on a person, just lonely and empty and numb. He pulled what looked to be a small pendant out from under his collar, stroking the piece between his thumb and forefinger. Only moments later, Harry emerged from the small room, carrying a variety of things. On the top of the pile was a stuffed green dragon. Harry's face hid it better, but upon closer inspection, the expression his face held was identical to Draco's. Harry tossed the dragon back on the table and Draco's features relaxed. He tucked the pendant back in his shirt.

Harry dropped the rest of the pile onto the table as well. Tucked into the folds of cloth, Hermione saw a glint of silver and immediately recognized the sword of Gryffindor.

Draco picked up the dragon, but was now hesitant to leave. He stared at the dragon and placed it back on the table.

Harry looked up at him and smirked. He had been pulling on and lacing his heavy dragon leather boots, his foot set on the coffee table but paused and rested his forearm against his raised thigh. "See. There is another reason." He turned his attention back to his boots.

From the time Harry had left the room until now, something had shifted in him. He seemed more alert, more focused. Hermione could only assume that he had taken a sobering potion for the change to have been that rapid.

A million emotions flickered over Draco's face, finally settling on anger. He turned away from Harry and ran his hand through his hair.

Hermione actually stepped back a step, she could not see this ending well.

Draco turned back towards Harry, who was now paying attention to his other boot. "How could you just fucking up and leave?!" Red splotches of anger covered Draco's face.

Harry plunked his boot back on the ground and met Draco's gaze, his own expression becoming just as infuriated. He opened his mouth to speak but Draco cut him off.

"I gave up everything to save you! I had nothing but I still gave it all to you! My own father wants me dead! Even Voldemort-"

At the mention of Voldemort's name, Harry doubled over in pain, clutching his forehead. He did not scream. His breathing became ragged.

Draco's features softened and he ran to Harry's side. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders, trying to lead him to the couch, to help him sit.

Harry sprang up and pushed Draco back with such force that he almost fell to the floor.

"Are you having visions again?" Draco asked so softly that Hermione barely heard it. How would Draco have known of Harry's visions?

Another wave of pain overcame Harry and he actually fell to the floor this time. He lay on his back, barely conscious, and began to laugh. Both Draco and Hermione looked on in silent horror, he looked like he was going mad.

"It's time." Harry whispered, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He dissolved into manic laughter.

Draco knelt by his side, hesitant to actually touch him. Harry was only mumbling now, his words incoherent. Hermione didn't dare reveal herself. "Harry?" He whispered, concern laced through his voice, all trace of anger now wiped from his face.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he pushed Draco away once again. Draco fell hard to the floor and Harry stood. His face was stony now, focused. He immediately moved to the table and Hermione realized that the pile of black material was the rest of his armour.

He pulled the shirt on over his head, the pain in his side as he moved not even registering on his face anymore.

Draco slowly picked himself back up, wincing and flexing his arm. "Harry wait, what did you see?" Draco did not go back to using Harry's surname, a point that Hermione picked up on quite quickly. "Is it Voldemort?"

Harry twitched in pain again as Draco said his name. He did not answer Draco's question. "Leave, now!" He growled as he strapped the sword to his left hip and replaced the gun in its holster. Raw magic crackled in the air and Hermione wondered where his wand was, she hadn't seen it yet.

"Harry, talk to me, what's going on? I know that look, you used to-"

"I said get the fuck out!" Harry bellowed, getting right in Draco's face. He picked up the dragon and shoved it into Draco's hands, a large spark of energy cracking between them as he did. "You got what you came for, now fuck off and don't ever come back!" Harry spun and stalked forwards, seemingly straight towards Hermione, in the direction of the front door.

Hermione pressed herself up against the wall behind her as much as she could. The last thing she wanted was for Harry to brush past her. This had been a terrible idea and she regretted not letting Ron come with her. Her efforts were all in vain though, as it seemed that Harry's purpose for walking in her direction, was to expose her.

She thought he was going to pass her by and was confused why she suddenly couldn't breathe, her feet almost lifted off the ground. "And you!" He screamed. At his mere touch, all the charms and protective spells surrounding Hermione vanished, leaving her fully exposed to anything that would come her way. He held her, pinned to the wall, his hand wrapped tight around her throat. Harry's eyes bored into her, full of rage. It was like he had known she was there the whole time. She didn't know if she was just too terrified to move, or if he was using a spell so she wouldn't. "I don't know why or what the fuck you're doing here, but if you know what's good for you, you'll get out of here right now."

"I- I don't believe that you'll hurt me. I had to see you Harry, I had to-" She croaked.

Harry just laughed. "In a few minutes I'll be the least of your concerns."

"Let her go, Harry." Draco's tone of voice sounded like he was ordering. Draco stood beside the pair, green dragon still in hand.

"When the fuck did you start to worry about her?" Harry asked Draco scathingly, letting go of Hermione's neck. She hadn't realized how much Harry was actually holding her up and once he let go, her legs collapsed from under her. She coughed, trying to catch her breath.

Harry turned and headed in the opposite direction. He was mumbling under his breath. Two loud cracks sounded outside the door. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Harry swore, his hand clenching around the hilt of the sword.

Moments later, a pair of redheads burst in through the door. Both immediately surveyed the situation, Ron kneeling next to Hermione right away. "Hermione, love, are you all right?" he cupped her face and looked her over quickly before helping her stand.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fine." Her attention had turned to Ginny, who stood rooted on the spot, tears glistening in her eyes as she caught sight of Harry. "Oh, Gin."

Ron turned his attention away from his wife and also took notice of Harry.

"What is this, a fucking school reunion?" Harry bellowed, not even acknowledging his former girlfriend. "Get the fuck out!" He moved past Ginny, who was still rooted to the spot. She reached out to touch him and he grabbed her wrist harshly, throwing her down.

She looked up at him from where she lay on the floor, her normally confident, composed demeanour replaced by this pale, withered figure. "Harry..." She whispered, reaching out towards him. Her face conveyed her despair, her heart breaking more in that moment than when she had actually thought Harry was dead.

Harry only spared her a brief glance but did not address her.

Anger overcame Ron instantly and it didn't matter to him that this was his former best friend standing in front of him. "You keep your hands off her!" He pulled aimed his wand towards Harry.

Harry only smirked and turned away.

Draco had made his way over to the pair. "You really should get out of here." He whispered to the two of them, handing Hermione the dragon. "Give that to Tig, would you?" He made his way to Harry again.

Hermione gasped as soon as the dragon touched her hand. Her head snapped up. "There's a tracking charm on this."

Draco turned abruptly back towards her. "What?"

"Someone placed a tracking charm on this, they-"

Harry began to laugh as he had before, his hand going up to his forehead.

"My father." Draco hissed through his teeth. "To know where Tig is, he- he knows where this place is, he might be coming-"

"You think I don't know that!" Harry laughed. "Why do you think I kept the stupid thing? And it's not just your father, Draco, oh no. This has worked perfectly. They're on their way now. They don't even suspect that I'm here, all they want is your sister. This is my chance. No more searching, no more waiting." The magical aura in the air grew stronger.

"You knew they were tracking you?! You're going to let You Know Who just waltz into your house?" Hermione shrieked.

"I gave you the chance to leave, but no, you wouldn't listen."

"But he's coming here, now! Harry, this is insane! This is sui-"

"It's suicide. I know." Harry grinned, his face full of darkness, fire and wrath. "It's too late for you all now, you had your chance, there are half a dozen Eaters standing on my lawn as we speak. And in only moments-"

Harry was cut off abruptly, his prediction coming true. With an immense crack, six black cloaked figures appeared out of thin air in the middle of Harry's living room. Voldemort stood in front of them. His face broke into a wide grin and Hermione thought that he probably had not looked this full of life in a very long time. "Good to see you, my Lord," Harry mock bowed, "I was hoping you'd show up."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

The small group of Death Eaters looked momentarily shocked but recovered quickly. Rodolphus Lestrange and the two other unknown Death Eaters had their wands drawn before anything could be spoken. Instantly, Ron, Hermione and Ginny's wands flew out of their hands, leaving them shocked. They had not been ready, they were not expecting this.

After recovering from the momentary shock of seeing both Harry Potter and his son in the same room, Lucius issued orders. "Make sure those three don't escape!"

Once again Rodolphus and the other two men raised their wands, each firing a different spell at their enemies. Ginny lay bound on the floor, ties of magic preventing her from moving. Ron had been hit with petrificus totalis, with his size he would have been a physical threat if left conscious. Hermione had merely been stupefied, Lestrange deciding that he would rather restrain her physically.

Draco had been relatively left alone, Bellatrix had her wand pointed at him but as of yet had not cast a spell.

All of this had taken only a few moments to transpire and Harry didn't seem especially concerned. He still stood in the same spot, his eyes locked on to Voldemort's. "Surprised to see me?" Harry mocked, knowing full well that Voldemort had never expected him to be there.

Voldemort, as always, acted smooth, like he had planned for this to happen. He stepped forwards towards Harry, glancing around the room.

"Looking for the girl?" Harry queried and Voldemort's gaze snapped back to him. "She's not here." He nodded to the stuffed dragon on the floor. "So nice of you to leave that for me. You really saved me much trouble, you know, searching for you myself, it could have been months more before we met again."

"Come now, Harry, the girl is no concern of yours. She belongs with her father. You and I both know, don't we Harry, that a child needs it's parents."

"Ha." Harry laughed. "This coming from the man who murdered mine. Since when have you ever taken an interest on what's best for others, my Lord?"

Voldemort's face darkened. "Now, Harry, I let your mockery slide the first time, but I will not tolerate it again. Now, give me the girl, or I start hurting your friends."

To drive the point home, Rodolphus tightened his grip on Hermione. He held her close to himself, barely conscious and still recovering from the stupefy. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and smiled a crooked smile towards Harry.

"Do what you like, they're no concern of mine." Harry's fingers twitched, his hand edging closer to the hilt of his sword. "What I intend is only between you and me."

Voldemort turned his attention to Draco for the first time. "Amazing you've managed to survive all these years, Draco, you-"

"No more games, Voldemort, I'm-"

"Crucio!" Voldemort bellowed, firing his yew wand at Harry.

"No!" Draco yelled and attempted to leap forwards. His aunt and his father both grabbed one of his arms, restraining him from moving any further. A quickly spoken stupefy had him on his knees in moments, Bellatrix holding firmly to his fine blond hair, keeping him partially upright.

The curse hit Harry dead in the chest but all he did was grit his teeth, his cold eyes boring into Voldemort as he took the pain effortlessly. Harry centred his magic in himself and pushed it outwards, dissipating the curse. Everyone in the room felt the strange magic that had come from the raven haired boy. He saw a flicker of surprise pass over Voldemort's face.

"Doesn't it get old." Harry stepped forwards. "Using the same tricks over and over again, to no avail? You must be getting awfully frustrated by this point in my life, having never successfully bested me." Harry smirked.

Harry saw a muscle twitch in Voldemort's jaw and he knew he was getting to him.

Voldemort nodded slightly to one of his Eaters and he stepped towards Ginny, who lay silently on the floor, extremely unsure of what to make of the whole situation. The man knelt down next to her and grabbed her chin in his hand. Ginny squirmed, trying to move around enough to kick him, but she was too tightly bound. "Crucio." He mumbled casually.

Ginny's piercing scream tore through the room, her body convulsing painfully on the floor. Hermione was beginning to be aware again and her shouts soon joined Ginny's as Rodolphus cast cruciatus as well.

Harry's right hand twitched next to the holster at his side. Voldemort obviously didn't know what the thing hanging at Harry's side was or he would have been paying much closer attention. "I don't know why you bother, I told you, they are no concern of mine."

Voldemort looked confused at Harry's apparent lack of concern for his former friends. "And I told you, Harry, the girl-"

"Enough!" Harry burst out. He pulled the magnum from the holster so quickly that Voldemort did not have time to process what was happening. He quickly aimed and fired, the explosion out of the barrel of the gun nearly deafening in the small space. Three quick shots all hit their marks with deadly precision. Nearly in the blink of an eye, the three Death Eaters guarding Hermione, Ron and Ginny were on the floor, trails of blood leaking from each of their foreheads.

Hermione screamed as she fell to the ground, her face splattered in Rodolphus Lestrange's blood.

In the split second after Harry had fired the gun, Voldemort had gone stiff. Harry saw this and took his opportunity to strike. Replacing the magnum in the holster, he drew the sword of Gryffindor from the scabbard at his left hip in nearly the same motion.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as Harry launched himself forwards, the sword moving up in a graceful arc. Voldemort's eyes drew open wide as the gleaming silver blade drew closer to him. He could not get out of the way in time, neither could the slithering snake still coiled around his shoulders. Nagini's head had been raised, always alert. This had made it very easy for Harry to bring the sword down quickly, easily divesting her of her head.

The snake's body tensed as all it's muscles went into spasm and Voldemort hastily flung the cold-blooded creature to the floor before it could constrict around his throat.

Strange black smoke floated away from it's body, black ooze pouring out of it's severed body. The sound of faint screaming accompanied the smoke as it slowly disappeared into the air.

Harry held his stance on the other side of Voldemort, a wide grin plastered on his face. Harry held Voldemort's gaze with his own and saw the panic present there. "That's all of them, Tom, it's only you and me now."

Voldemort chuckled. "All of what, Harry? Surely I don't know what you're talking about." He tried to unsuccessfully brush off Harry's comment.

Ron, now conscious again thanks to the death of his curse caster, was at the side of his wife. Hermione had taken the cruciatus curse hard and was not coping well, her body still twitching, she fought hard to stay conscious. Ginny had come free as well, at her captor's death, but she was not as eager to get up.

Harry's smirk grew wider. "You know, Tom. you know what I'm talking about. Only, you're hesitant to say because there's no way I could know about them, right? The ring, the diadem, the locket, the cup, the diary. Am I making sense now Tom? Horcruxes. And there's none left to stand in my way."

Bellatrix laughed once in a short, manic burst. "The boy speaks nonsense, my Lord." Her eyes kept glancing to the lifeless body of her husband though she certainly didn't seem too choked up over his loss.

Lucius was shocked at the mention of the diary. If he had known that it had contained a piece of his master's soul, he would never have left it out of his sight.

Harry could see Voldemort processing Harry's words. He could imagine Voldemort trying to search inside himself, trying to feel for the pieces of his soul that had formerly held residence inside various objects.

Harry was getting bored of the game of cat and mouse that was happening, and intended to put it to an end. He saw Voldemort raise his wand, his senses piqued as adrenaline raced through him. "Not here, Tom. This needs to be much more public." A beam of red light burst from the tip of Voldemort's wand, aimed straight for Harry.

Harry held his hand out in front of him, a blue convex aura of magic flowing from it. The magic surrounded Harry, forming itself to the shape of his body. The light grew brighter as the red spell contacted it. Nothing happened. The spell didn't bounce of the protective shield, neither was it absorbed into it, the spell was simply nullified.

Everyone in the room could feel the immense amount of magic crackling in the air, the hairs on the back of their arms all standing on end. It seemed to be building to a crescendo and without warning, everyone in the room disappeared with the familiar crack of disapparation.

Draco glanced frantically around as his eyesight slowly returned to him. There had been a blinding flash of white light just before Harry had somehow transported them all at once. Draco hadn't even known that kind of magic was possible.

He was on his knees, just as he had been when his father had stupefied him. His father and aunt had both rushed to their master's side upon reaching this destination. Voldemort seemed a touch unsteady and they were both ready to help him in any way they could.

Now able to clearly see everything around him, Draco panicked. They were right in the middle of Diagon Alley. The street was full of people, a large crowd had already gathered. Astonished murmurs filled the air.

"This is much better, don't you think, Tom." Draco heard Harry's voice yell over the crowd. "Let the people see who's really behind their Minister. Are you ready Tom? I know I am." Harry sped forwards, his sword tucked low. The crowd followed the movement of the strange ebony haired man. Not many had figured out who he was yet.

Voldemort, Lucius and Bellatrix all had their wands at the ready, firing spells at Harry in rapid succession, not a single one penetrating the protective shield that encompassed him.

Draco's heart was beating so quickly he thought it might leap out of his chest. How Harry could be so confident, so reckless was beyond him. His heart nearly stopped when, only 30ft from Voldemort, Harry disappeared. He was still there, that much was obvious to everyone, the magical aura that surrounded him was still present, but he was invisible. The crowd had gone so silent that his footfalls could be heard on the uneven cobblestone.

Lucius and Bellatrix threw themselves in front of their master but both were swept aside by a concentrated gale of wind. A bright light exploded in front of Bellatrix and when she hit the ground, she did not recover.

Voldemort tensed and his feet were lifted slightly off the ground as the invisible Harry slammed hard into him, and judging by the marks appearing on his neck, Harry had his hand wrapped firmly around it. A dark blossom of blood surfaced on Voldemort's back, barely visible because of the black of his robes.

Harry winked back into existence. His face was mere inches from Voldemort's, one hand gripped firmly around his neck, the other wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword, which was buried deeply in Voldemort's abdomen, at least six inches of the sword protruded out of his back. Harry released his neck and leaned back, raising his leg and kicking straight forwards with all the strength he could muster. Voldemort flew back, dislodging from the sword and somehow managing to stay on his feet.

Lucius sprang to his feet to the side of his wounded master. "My Lord!" He cried as he ran towards him.

Voldemort clutched his abdomen, his face contorted in pain. The pain quickly faded from his features and he connected with Harry, whose grin fell from his face.

Draco watched in awe as, with a whispered spell, Voldemort cleaned the blood from his robes, no further flow replacing the stain. He was healing, and quickly.

Bellatrix's high, throaty giggle cut through the air as she still lay injured on the ground. Disbelief crossed Harry's face. This wasn't working, nothing was turning out as he planned. His facade was beginning to crack, his frustration showed. He slammed the sword back into the scabbard, its length still coated in the blood of Voldemort.

Voldemort let his head fall back, his arms spread wide and took a deep breath. His resolve, compared to Harry's, had never been stronger. His red eyes bored deep into Harry's soul. "You can't kill me, Harry." His feet lifted inches off the ground and in an instant, his body was catapulting across the square, his black robes trailing behind him.

Voldemort physically contacted Harry, their roles reversed, Voldemort's hands were now clasped tightly around Harry's neck. Just as their two wands would not function against each other, it seemed that it was the magic at their cores that refused to injure one another. Upon contact, all the protection around Harry disappeared, leaving him open, vulnerable to any magical attack as long as Voldemort kept a tight hold on him. Harry's shield exploding sent a shockwave of magic reeling through the crowd. None in the crowd had ever seen such visceral, raw use of magic before.

Harry seemed petrified on the spot and Draco didn't know whether it was a ploy or if he actually couldn't move.

Draco was torn, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to do something, anything, but what could he do? Glancing around, he saw that Ron and Ginny were gathered closely around a barely conscious Hermione. Ron's face looked pale as he held Hermione close to him, she seemed to be losing blood, judging from the red pool forming around her. They had not gotten their wands back and could not leave.

Harry never once spared his former friends a glance. Draco moved slowly around the square, entering Harry's line of sight. Almost all life had left his eyes. Draco pleaded with Harry silently to perk up, fight back. He moved even closer.

A heavy hand fell on Draco's shoulder and he felt the the tip of a wand press against his neck. "I wouldn't get any closer if I were you, my boy." Lucius' voice drawled from behind him and Draco stiffened. "So nice to see you've returned from being a coward. Now tell me where your sister is and I'll be happy to return you to your pathetic existence."

Draco struggled against his father, his and Harry's eyes still connected. They were still fading. "I would never give her up to you! You left her there to die!" Draco kicked out hard behind him, trying to get his father away, but before he could connect, his world went black.

Harry's world was quickly going fuzzy, the world blurring out of existence before him. He couldn't move, he was trapped in whatever spell Voldemort had placed on him. The only thing that stood out before him, the only thing that was clear, was a pair of grey eyes staring back at him. If this was dying, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

The grey eyes in front of him, widening in what he recognized as extreme pain. He thought he heard a cry for help and something stirred deep inside of him. His fingers twitched, he could move. An emotion he hadn't felt in years swept through him, only for an instant, but it was enough. His vision cleared and his strength returned. With a combination of magic and brute force, Harry threw Voldemort off him, stunning the evil mastermind. "No!" Harry shouted as this happened.

His brain finally caught up to his eyes and he saw Lucius standing over the unmoving figure of Draco, his wand pointed down at the blond man. His body moved of its own accord and he sprinted forwards, drawing the gun out of its holster as he did. He cocked the hammer as the tip of the gun drew to its proper height. Lucius' eyes widened and there was a great bang. He crumpled to the ground beside his son, a pool of blood flowing freely from his now lifeless body.

Harry turned rapidly towards Voldemort. Once again, Harry's emotions had overcome his logic and in that instant he knew that he had let Voldemort get away again. Voldemort's face held a wide grin. The world existed in slow motion. Simultaneously, Harry pulled his gun around and aimed straight for his heart, while Voldemort raised his own hand and in a last mocking gesture, gave a cocky wave, apparating at the exact instant Harry pulled the trigger, leaving a crowd of people in the bullet's path.

"Fuck!" Harry screamed, throwing the gun to the ground. He turned his head away, completely unconcerned for the people in front of him. He looked back towards Draco and saw him stir. He sat up, supporting himself with one hand on the cobblestone ground. He turned his attention, next, to Bellatrix, still laying prone on the ground.

The explosion of magic which had forced her onto the ground had broken her back and she was unable to move, her wand thrown too far for her to reach.

Harry stalked over to her side and crouched low next to her, his face so full of rage and violence that it actually scared Bellatrix for a moment. "Where did he go?" Harry demanded. Bellatrix only laughed. "Answer me! Where did he go!"

The square full of people looked on in horror. They were dead silent, staring in absolute horrification at their former saviour. A great cry from Ginny broke the silence, but it was still the only sound other than Harry's voice. The sound did not distract him, he did not look over.

Bellatrix still would not speak. Harry placed his thumbs on each side of her face and looked deep into her soot black eyes. "You will tell me!" Harry forced his mind into hers, using this modified form of legilimency to try an obtain the information he needed. Her mind was too corrupted, all he got were violent images, manic thoughts. He slammed her head hard onto the street and she teetered on unconsciousness. "Why can't I kill him?!"

Bellatrix's eyes rolled into the back of her head but she still continued to laugh. "You are your own obstacle, Potter."

Harry took her words as nonsense and slammed her head again.

"Oh, wouldn't Sirius love to see you now? His precious godson, no better than the man who murdered his two best friends." She taunted, smiling up at him through unfocused eyes.

Harry had endured much in his years, but nothing had ever hurt as bad as Bellatrix's comment, and she knew it. She knew how to get to him. Harry warred with himself, taking her comment to heart. Was he really no better than Voldemort? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and stood, turning away from her. His gun lay a few feet in front of him and he picked it up, replacing it in its holster.

"What's the matter, Harry, dear, don't have the conviction to do it?" She yelled loud enough so everyone in the square could hear. "You can't even kill a woman!"

The darkness returned, more apparent than ever. "Asphyxiate!" He screamed. He knelt by her side once more, his face right next to hers. Bellatrix clawed at her throat as she tried to take a breath, but for her, there was no air to take in. Her eyes widened, the upper half of her body convulsing, squirming in panic. "I should thank you, Bellatrix." Harry whispered calmly, eerily in her ear. "You have given me the conviction." He said nothing else, but kept his eyes locked onto hers for the nearly two minutes it took her to finally run out of air and lay still. He had given her a terrifying image to take with her on her way out, the icy gaze of his emerald eyes burned deep into her.

When Harry finally stood and surveyed the scene around him, he felt nothing, truly nothing, Bellatrix's comment had banished the last ounce of humanity that remained in Harry Potter. He looked towards Draco, but the man's eyes would not meet his gaze, instead, they stared off into the distance. Harry followed his gaze. Ginny held her brother tightly to her, the blood that had flowed from the wound on his neck already drying on his shirt. His face was ashen, his body limp, he was dead. Hermione was draped over his lap, her weak body clutching to his, her hand stroking his, kissing it.

In every direction that Harry moved, the crowd moved away from him, away from this cold warrior whom they wanted no part of. Harry had no support. His gaze turned back to Draco, whose eyes would finally meet his. They were tired, sad.

Harry didn't say anything. He held his gaze with Draco's a few moments longer before apparating away.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten **

All hell broke loose in the moments after Harry disappeared. The crowd went into a panic, people screaming and running. Draco barely heard any of it, he was in shock, slightly numb. His father lay in a heap behind him but he could not bear to look at him. He knew that Ron lay dead not fifty feet from him, Hermione injured as well, the Weasley girl clinging to them both. He couldn't convince himself to care. He did not belong here. He thought of Antigone but was not concerned, he was sure she was being taken care of.

Harry's expression haunted him, the despair and depression, though very subtle, had not been missed by Draco. Nor had he missed the fact that Harry had tried to come to his aid, even turning away from Voldemort to do so. Why would he do that? Draco needed to know. There was no reason for him to stay.

He slipped away from the crowd, nobody noticed his departure. He realized that he did not have his wand and had to go back. He was forced to look at the body of his father. Lucius was so proud and powerful in life and Draco almost laughed to see him look so pathetic and inconsequential now. He wasn't special any more, he was just dead. Draco found his wand in the folds of Lucius' robes, carefully tucked away beside his own. Draco took a moment to stare at his wand, formerly his mother's. His father had to have recognized it.

As an afterthought, Draco picked up Lucius' wand and snapped it in two. Even in death, this wand would never cause pain again. He stared down at his father. "I hope you rot in hell, you bastard." He spat.

Having reclaimed his wand, Draco was now able to apparate and did so. He had to go see Harry, there was nothing that could stop him.

It had begun to rain, the overcast afternoon becoming dull, dreary and wet. Draco stared at the decrepit house where he knew Harry would be. The front door was wide open, he hadn't even bothered to close it. There was no evidence of the other Death Eaters who had been guarding the outside of the house.

He was soaking wet before he reminded himself to go inside. He walked up to the door, pushing it open the rest of the way. He was slightly hesitant to go in, but not afraid, not of Harry. Chunks of plaster lay on the hardwood in the entrance hallway, a large hole in the wall above the pile, it had been punched hard.

Walking further into the house Draco started noticing spots of blood on the floor, Harry was bleeding. The belt and scabbard containing the Sword of Gryffindor lay discarded on the floor. The sword had fallen part way out of its holder, it's length still covered in the now dried blood of Lord Voldemort.

There was no evidence of the three Death Eaters that had been shot in this room only hours before, the bodies and blood were all gone. The empty magnum lay on the coffee table, it's cylinder lay open, extra bullets scattered all around it. Harry's dragon hide shirt sat on the table beside it. Draco picked it up, it was damp. He pulled his hand away and found it to be covered in blood.

"Harry?" Draco called out calmly. The last thing he wanted to do was startle the man who had shown himself to be so powerful. "Where are you?"

Draco heard banging around and then the sound of glass shattering, coming from the kitchen. He moved slowly around the corner. "Harry?" He called again.

Draco stopped in his tracks when he entered the kitchen. Harry stood, bare chested, facing the wall. His hand were spaced wide on the counter top, his head hanging low near its surface. Broken glass littered the floor around his feet. Draco could see blood on the light coloured countertops, his hand smearing it around and he clenched his fists.

The blood on his shirt had come from the wound in his side being violently reopened. Draco's eyes moved from his injured side up to his chest, which was moving in sharp, ragged breaths as Harry tried to calm himself. Draco felt tears prick the back of his eyes at the sight of Harry, such a strong person, probably the strongest he had ever known, trying to keep hold of himself. Draco's chest felt heavy, like a great hole had been punched through him. The sight of Harry like this was almost too much for him to bear.

He moved slowly forwards, stopping only a few feet behind the raven haired man. He reached out to touch Harry, rest his hand on his shoulder, but he drew his hand back at the last moment. "Don't touch me." Harry croaked raggedly, his voice barely above a whisper. He did not turn around.

Draco took a step closer. "Harry, I-"

"Get out." Harry's voice hitched and cracked. His arms and back tensed, making his scarred flesh stand out as the muscles beneath them contracted.

Draco stood his ground and didn't move. "Let me help you." Draco's voice was so full of emotion. He picked up a tea towel that lay on the kitchen table and gently pressed it to Harry's bleeding side.

Harry spun around at the first sensation of contact, grabbing Draco's wrist, tearing it away from his side. The fast movement twisted harshly on his wound and his face contorted in pain. He wasn't able to conceal it any longer. "Get out!" He yelled this time. His voice was desperate and grief ridden. He choked on a sob but managed to pull himself back.

"No." Draco whispered, gently placing his other hand on Harry's. His gaze focused on their hand and slowly rose to meet Harry's gaze.

Harry ripped his hand away and stalked into the living room, wrenching open the cabinet door where he kept all his liquor. He grabbed the first bottle he could lay his hands on and struggled to remove the cap. Draco followed him, watching from a distance, sadness washing completely over his face. Harry tipped the bottle up and drank deeply. He only swallowed once and his stomach convulsed, making him nearly choke. His body curled over and he dry-heaved, his right arm shooting out in front of him to brace himself on the cabinet. He threw the bottle to the ground and it shattered into a million pieces. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallower, more frantic.

He covered his eyes with his shaky left hand, still bracing himself up on the cabinet. He let out one choked sob still desperately trying to hold himself back. He couldn't do this much longer.

Draco could feel his pain radiating out across the room and went to his side. Draco stood in the space between his body and the cabinet, their faces close. Draco's left hand covered Harry's right one, his other reaching up to pull Harry's hand away from his eyes. Harry suppressed another sob.

"It's going to be okay." Draco tried to reassure him, his voice shaky. "I won't let you do this alone." He forced Harry to look into his eyes.

Harry broke. With a great wailing sob, Harry fell to his knees, taking Draco down with him. He clung to Draco desperately, his fists clutching Draco's shirt tightly. He buried his face into Draco's chest and just let go. Draco eased him even farther to the ground, Draco's back rested against the wall behind him. Draco's arms wrapped just as tightly around Harry, one hand gripped tightly in his hair, holding his head firmly to his chest, the other rubbing soothing circles on Harry's back.

Harry curled up, letting his knees rest over Draco's legs. He didn't hold back. Every ounce of anger, fear, loneliness, grief, sorrow, longing and guilt came flowing out of him. He couldn't hold it back, not anymore.

Silent tears trailed down Draco's cheeks as he held him. Draco's cheek rested on the top of Harry's head. He turned slightly and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead. He felt the tears from his eyes fall onto Harry's face. Harry felt them too, and gripped Draco even tighter.

Draco thought of all the time he had known Harry and was amazed that it hadn't come to this before. This boy in front of him needed so much help, just someone to care, someone to be there. Harry's grip seemed desperate and pleading. "I'm not going anywhere." Draco's voice broke as he tried to reassure him. "Not even if you wanted me to. You left me once, I'm not going to let us be apart again."

Draco felt a warm, wet sensation on his neck and assumed it was Harry's tears. He looked down at Harry, whose lips were placing soft kisses on Draco's neck.

"I'm sorry." Harry whispered. "Draco, I'm so-"

"Sh." Draco covered Harry's mouth with his hand. "Not now." He kissed Harry's forehead again and resumed comfortingly rubbing his back.

Harry sighed deeply, his breath hitching as it always does after a long cry. Both boys sat in comfortable silence. Both felt safe, more safe than they had in years and neither wanted to break the silence. They sat for what seemed an eternity. Harry became so relaxed, his exhaustion took over and he drifted off into a light, uneasy sleep, wrapped tightly in Draco's arms.

Draco suddenly remembered, in another time and place, holding Harry like this after a similar encounter with the Dark Lord.

_Draco had apparated recklessly, he had never tried taking someone along with him before, certainly not somebody unconscious and seriously injured. He had taken Harry to the first place he had thought of, the only place safe he knew._

_ Draco lost his footing as the landed on the sandy beach in front of his mother's Italian ocean side retreat. He hauled Harry to his feet and dragged him inside the sea side villa. He dropped him on the sofa in the main living area and sat down next to him._

_ Harry was finally starting to regain control of his body and was able to speak._

_ "Where- what-"_

_ "I got you out, Potter, he was going to kill you."_

_ "No!" Harry sat up quickly, but dizziness overwhelmed him and stars swam before his eyes. Draco guided him back down. "I have to go back..." Harry whispered, barely keeping himself conscious._

_ "I'll be damned if you go back there and get yourself killed when I've just risked my ass getting you out."_

_ "Malfoy, doesn't it get tiring only thinking of yourself all the time?" Harry barely managed to whisper before falling out of consciousness._

_ Draco smirked down at Harry, this was going to be interesting._

Draco was shocked out of his memory by Harry squirming and mumbling in his arms. He thrashed violently and curled into an even tighter ball on the floor beside Draco. He didn't scream, his face scrunched up in the familiar expression that Draco had seen so many times before in their months spent together after the battle. Harry was having a vision. There was no pulling him out of it.

When finally Harry's eyes snapped open, his body relaxed. Draco simply held his hand, let him stay silent. Harry pulled his hand out of Draco's and sat up, leaning against the wall beside him.

"Did you see him?" Draco asked softly, trying to take Harry's hand again, but he pulled away and didn't respond. "Harry, don't do this." He said darkly. "Don't shut everyone out. Don't shut me out. There are people out there who care about you, I-" Draco trailed off the end of his sentence. "You shouldn't have to do this on your own."

"I can't let anyone in." Harry replied openly. There was no censor filtering out what he said, the words were coming from deep inside him. "I want so badly to- why can't I feel?" He buried his face in his hands. "Why am I so empty?"

"You need to let yourself feel. You've begun already, Harry, we wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise. But you can't hide behind this shell any longer. You have to let people in, you need to let them care. You need help."

"I can't. I can't let anybody care about me. I just, I can't." Draco began to interrupt but Harry cut him off. "No! Everyone I've ever cared for, every single fucking person I've ever loved, has ended up dead! It's easier to just not care, not feel."

"That's not true Harry. Because you've cared for all those people, and they for you, their deaths became sacrifices, reasons for you to become stronger."

Harry shot to his feet, anger clouding his vision. "Sacrifices?! How can you say they've made me stronger? Look at me! I just fucking killed my best friend and it certainly hasn't made me stronger!" Harry laughed and sobbed at the same time.

"Their deaths had to have had a purpose. For you to do what you do, their deaths have to have meant something." Draco stood as well.

"And I suppose you know that purpose? If you have the answers, Draco, please tell me so I can end this miserable existence I call my life!" Harry's anger deflated from his face and instead turned to misery. "Until this is done, finally, completely over, I _can not_ care about anybody. I can not feel."

Draco sighed. "Harry, nobody but you has those answers, even if you don't know what they are right now. I see you. You're silently screaming to the world for someone to notice your despair. I see it Harry. I'm here to help you."

Their eyes locked and Draco silently pleaded for Harry to trust him. Something flickered in Harry's eyes and for just a fleeting moment, Draco thought he saw a bit of the old sparkle back in them. Harry took a step forward, slightly closing the gap between them. The spark left his eyes quickly and though he did not move back a step, Draco suddenly felt as though there was an insurmountable distance between the two of them. His gaze turned to a sneer and he averted his eyes.

"Dammit Harry!" Draco was frustrated. He closed the gap between them. "What did I do wrong? What happened between us that made you look at me the way you are now? You look at me like you hate me, but how can that be when we... when I-" Draco stopped his ramblings with a bitter chuckle. "I can't figure it out. During those months in Italy I did nothing but support you, help you, comfort you when you needed it! Tell me why I need to suffer because of you! Tell me why you have abandoned the beliefs you fought so hard for during all your years at Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head as he listened to Draco rant. Finally not able to take any more of his yelling and accusations, he came to his own defence. "What the hell ever made you think that those beliefs were mine to begin with? Never in any of my years at Hogwarts was I ever able to have an opinion. It was always 'This is what we believe in Harry' or 'This is what you're fighting for." Do you honestly think that, if given a choice, an eleven year old boy would say 'Sure, I'd love to take the fate of the entire wizarding world in my hands. Tell me where to sign up!' I had no choice. When I was finally able to get away from everything I could finally make my own decisions. I realized that I had only ever fought for others and I was sick of it! It was time for me to fight for myself!" Harry pointed his thumb at his chest. He turned and paced, running his hands through his hair.

"Is that the reason you let the world think you were dead? You could make your own decisions so you decided to be a selfish teenager for once. Is that the reason you left me? Tell me!" Draco shouted, tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Harry did not respond. "Why won't you just tell me why-"

Harry stormed over to Draco, grabbing the front of his shirt harshly. He seemed to be warring with his words, but censorship lost and the words came flowing out. "It's because I loved you!" He exclaimed, letting go of Draco's shirt and backing away. "How could I stay with you when-"

"You what?" Draco stuttered, stunned, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I said I loved you. You were the reason this happened to me. You were the reason I became what I am now. You have no idea how much it tore me up inside to have to leave you. But how could I stay with you and put you in so much danger? My visions were getting worse, it was only a matter of time before Voldemort tracked me down. I couldn't risk you getting hurt, I couldn't-" Harry took a breath. "So I made a choice. I chose to leave, to live without you so I wouldn't have to watch you die. From then on I was just surviving. I was not going to save anyone anymore. I had saved the one person who meant more to me than any other in the entire world. I saved you. We were even. I didn't owe anyone anything. This was my time to do something for me. I only went after Voldemort for one reason: revenge, but not for my parents, Sirius or Cedric. I wanted revenge because I was not given the right to a normal life! I just wanted to be with you and that was the end of it. Unfortunately, life doesn't give you what you want. I had nothing, and so, I had nothing to lose."

"But I'm here now! You don't have to protect me." Draco was panicking, his breathing getting faster. He could read the expression on Harry's face. He was leading up to something. "My father's dead, Voldemort is weak. Stay with me. We'll figure something out."

"It won't work." Harry shook his head. "He'll never stop looking for me. I can't kill him, I don't know how-" Harry choked on his words grabbing Draco's shirt again, gentler this time. He pulled Draco close. "I can't do this anymore. I'm done. I quit. I just don't care anymore." One of Harry's hands snaked around the back of Draco's neck, pulling his face close, their foreheads touching. "I have to leave."

"Harry, no, you can't leave. What will I do-"

Harry silenced him with a quick, hard kiss. They clung to each other desperately, neither wanting the moment to end. The kiss slowed, but they did not separate. Harry tried to push Draco away but Draco's arms were wrapped so tightly around his neck that it was nearly impossible.

"No..." Draco whimpered.

Harry pried Draco's arms from him and stepped away. He turned and picked up his shirt from the coffee table and quickly pulled it over his head.

Draco stood shellshocked, his fingers lightly touching his lips. He couldn't move. He watched as Harry picked up the sword from the floor and attached it to his hip. He reloaded the gun, pocketing a handful of spare bullets. Draco did not hear any words spoken, but Harry's lips moved and the two weapons turned invisible at his side. Without looking back, Harry strode into his bedroom and returned moments later wearing a long black coat.

Draco grabbed his arm as he passed and Harry stopped. He turned his head to Draco, keeping his body faced in the direction of the door. "Goodbye Draco." He said, his voice creaking. A softness returned to his eyes only for a moment. "I always loved you." His eyes turned back into ice and he turned away.

Pulling his arm out of Draco's grip he stalked out of the room, out the door. Draco snapped out of his daze and ran to follow him, but when he reached the doorway he only saw the black figure for another split second before a great crack reverberated through the air and Harry disappeared with it.

Draco stood alone in the middle of the driveway, rain pelting down on his frame. He looked out into the gloomy distance, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "I love you too..." He whispered into the distance.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Draco stumbled back into the house, his legs carrying him without instruction from his brain. Tears clouded his vision and he choked back the sobs that threatened to overcome him. Entering the living room, he collapsed down on the couch, burying his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs.

He shifted his feet when they began to go numb and his foot contacted something soft. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked to the floor thorough wet, red-rimmed eyes. The plush dragon sat on the floor. He leaned down and picked it up, holding it tightly against his chest, burying his face in it's body, letting his tears flow freely.

By the time Draco once again made himself aware of his surroundings, it was pitch dark in the room, the downpour of rain echoing off the old, slightly leaky roof. He had stayed, hoping for whatever desperate reason he could think of, that Harry would return. He had not come back.

Draco's mind shifted it's focus onto Antigone. He was suddenly overcome with worry for her. Who was taking care of her? He stood quickly, bringing his hand to his forehead to try and stave off the impending head rush that came from sitting with his head down for so long. Once his head had cleared, he glanced one last time around the dark room, reluctant to leave.

He felt as if something connected him to this room. Something intangible, inexplicable that made him not want to leave. This room, this house, held Harry's aura trapped inside it. If Draco left, he might never feel that aura again.

He forced the logical part of his mind to take over, Antigone was his priority now. She always should have been. He berated himself for being so selfish, for thinking only of himself when he was the only thing his baby sister had left.

Draco wandered through the house one more time, ending up in Harry's own bedroom. The room was mostly bare, only a few pieces of furniture dotting its walls. There were no personal items to even really indicate that the room had been inhabited. Something pulled him towards the table that sat beside the bed. He opened the drawer warily, cautious of dangerous things that could be lurking there.

At first the drawer seemed to be empty but as he turned away, a flash of red caught his eye. He reached in for it, grasping the tiny item. Pulling it out, he found that it was attached to a thick silver chain.

Tears sprung once again to Draco's eyes as he recognized the charm. It was an Italian Horn, finely crafted of blood red coral, set into a fixture of silver. He wrapped the chain around his hand, holding the charm tightly in his clenched fist. A small smile peeked onto Draco's features. He had kept it.

He turned away, nothing more held him here. He pocketed the charm. He did not look back as he exited the house, and, keeping Number 12 Grimmauld place firmly secured in his mind, he apparated away.

Arriving at the doorstep, Draco only knocked lightly once before simply walking in the door. He wasn't even sure there would be anybody there. Entering the house, there was only silence. He stood for a moment and panicked. He wouldn't even know where to begin looking for Antigone again.

A shrill shriek put Draco on alert. He bound up the stairs like lightening, searching for the sound he was sure his sister had made. She shrieked again and he threw open the door to the room where she had played the previous day. The panic evaporated from him when he caught sight of Antigone, playing a game with a grizzled old house elf.

Antigone heard the door open and looked up at Draco. Her face broke into a wide grin. She leapt up and launched herself at his legs, wrapping her arms tightly around them. "Draco!" She squealed. "You're back!"

Draco smiled warmly down at her but the smile did not reach his eyes. He reached down and lifted her up, holding her tightly to himself. After a moment she squirmed to get away. Draco let her down again. She looked up at him from the floor, her eyes catching the plush green dragon, now free of any tracking charm.

"You got it back!" She smiled, hugging it to her chest.

"Of course I did. I said I would, didn't I?"

"Uh-huh." She turned back to the house elf. "I played with Kreacher all day. He made me lunch and dinner and he talked about mommy."

Draco's eyes opened wide and stared at the withered elf. "You knew my mother?" Draco asked.

Kreacher stepped forwards and nodded. "I serve the most ancient house of Black. Master Regulus was my master. Mistress Narcissa used to come for visits when she was a child. Mistress Antigone reminded Kreacher of Mistress Narcissa."

Everything fell into place then. Draco understood why this house had looked familiar, why the crests lining the walls had poked at something in his memory. This was the Black family house. His mother's cousin's home. Sirius Black's home. That must have been how Harry, and thus the Order had gotten their hands on it.

Draco looked slowly around the room, touching the carved door frame that somehow now reminded him of his mother.

He nodded down at Kreacher. "Thank you for looking after her. Have the others not yet returned?"

"What does Kreacher care for the blood traitors and the mudblood? They sully the ancient house of Black."

"Why are they allowed in the house then?"

"Because Kreacher owes Master Harry much. He was kind to Kreacher, let me keep Master Regulus' most prized possession." He pulled the locket out from under his smock. "Even in death, Kreacher owes Master Harry." Something akin to sadness covered Kreacher's face.

Draco almost laughed. "He's not dead."

"Not dead?" Excitement coursed through Kreacher's voice. He seemed to move with a spring in his step. He looked around the room. "Look at this mess. This house is not fit for Master Harry to live." Kreacher disappeared from the room with a pop.

Draco thought that House Elves were very strange creatures, this one was no different.

Antigone pulled on his pant leg. "Draco..." He looked down at her. "Are you sad? You look sad."

Draco cursed his sibling for being so observant. He tried to put on a brave face. "A little bit, Tig. Nothing for you to worry about. I think it's almost time for you to go to bed. What do you say?"

Antigone shook her head. "I was waiting for Miss Hermione and Ron to come back. He said he'd read me a story. There was a red haired girl here too, but she left before I could say hello. They left so quickly, left me with Kreacher. They looked scared."

"I don't think they'll be back tonight, Tig. Come on, it's time to go to bed." Draco cryptically replied. Tomorrow they would leave. Perhaps she would not have to learn of the horrors of this day before they did.

"Okay." She took his hand and practically dragged him towards the room they had used the night before. The room had been cleaned, obviously an attempt by Kreacher to make Antigone feel at home. "Kreacher found me a night gown." She lifted it from the bed to show him. He only smiled lightly and nodded. He envied the innocence of childhood.

Her blue eyes smiled up at him widely and Draco was struck with the sudden image of his father's dead eyes staring up at him. He paled and felt sick to his stomach. "Why don't you change, Tig. I'll be right back." He turned and fled the room before she could respond. He shut the door behind him.

He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, his body trembling. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to calm himself. He reached for the charm in his pocket and took it out. He stroked it with his thumb. He slid down the wall until he was sitting, his knees pulled up to his chest. He pulled the dragon pendant out from under his shirt and unclasped the chain that held it on. Sliding the Italian Horn off its chain and on to his own, he re-clasped it around his neck. He kissed both the pendants before letting them slide back under his shirt. The contact with his skin seemed to send a calming wave through him and he breathed easier and deeper.

A few deep breaths later and he was ready to return to his sister. He put the horn's original chain back in his pocket. "Ready, Tig?" He asked before re-entering the room.

Antigone sat up under the covers, leaning back against the headboard of the bed that was far too large for a six year old. She had a book open in her hands. "What have you got there?" He tried to feign interest.

"It's Babbitty Rabbitty! Mommy used to read it to me all the time!" He sat down next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, holding the book, his hands over hers. She pulled the book towards her. "No, I'll read it."

"Ok, you read it." Draco kissed the top of her head, secretly glad. His voice was shaky. He was surprised that Antigone hadn't noticed that his body was as well.

His body and mind separated as Antigone read the book. He didn't hear a word she said. He felt the pair of pendants resting heavily on his chest, his thoughts continually drifting back to Harry, those haunted green eyes burned into the back of his mind.

Antigone tugging on his arm brought him back to reality. "I'm done." She put the book aside and looked up at him. She wiped a stray tear off his cheek. "I'm sorry you're sad, Draco." She leaned up and kissed his cheek.

Draco was terrified to speak. He feared if he opened his mouth, he would begin to cry. It was taking everything he had not to burst into tears that very second. He ruffled Antigone's hair and lay her down.

"Goodnight Draco." She whispered, curling into a ball on her side, burrowing herself even farther under the blankets, her recovered toy dragon clutched close to her chest. She was asleep in minutes.

Draco was alone again, emotionally anyway. Alone, he was left to his own thoughts, their dark images and depressing feelings clouding his mind, leaving no room for anything else. Before the last few days, Draco had been surviving, he had put his past behind him, moved on with his life. He worked a normal job, with normal people; muggles even. He didn't have any stress, not the serious kind. He merely lived his day, and that was that. His thoughts would drift to Harry every once in a while, but it was becoming less and less frequent. The letters from his mother and Antigone were enough to keep him updated, but they never really expanded on the state of the world, and Draco was glad for that. His guilt at leaving would have eaten him alive if he had known how bad the world had gotten.

Now, everything had been turned upside down. The harshest blow of all had been the re-introduction of Harry Potter into his life. He had never expected that, out of all the possibilities in the universe, seeing Harry again had been at the very bottom of the list.

Exhaustion soon overtook Draco and he drifted in and out of sleep. Whether awake or asleep though, the same vision assaulted him throughout the night. Flashes of memories of the months he and Harry had spent together in Italy would not leave him be.

_Harry had stayed silent for a long time. Though his physical wounds had healed quickly, his magic had been slow to return and there was something that lingered in his gaze, something haunted. He wouldn't speak to Draco, though he was the only other human contact available. Draco couldn't blame him though, after seven years of fighting each other tooth and nail. It took a long time for that first conversation to come, for Harry to finally be convinced that Draco wasn't going to hand him back to Voldemort._

_ He'd tried to leave at first, to go back, to help his friends, but without his full magical strength, that would take the full six months to fully recover, he gave up. He retreated into himself, blamed himself for everything. He wasn't good enough, strong enough or smart enough. He would never defeat Voldemort. That's what he told himself anyway._

_ Draco began to see the vast similarities between himself and the raven haired boy, and it frightened him. Their mutual silence had broken on the day when Harry had first begun to see the similarities as well. Their first conversation, as it were, the most they had ever spoken to each other at one time, had been an explosive argument._

_ They had argued about everything possible. Their childhood rivalry, Gryffindor and Slytherin, but most of all they had fought about Voldemort. Harry needed to vent, and he had. By the end of that fight, both had come to the conclusion that the other was not trying to kill him, nor had they ever, nor would they ever._

_ An uneasy peace had formed between them. They were both broken children from broken homes, both their lives had been forever altered, their paths chosen for them by those who thought they knew best. Both only wanted the same thing out of life; the freedom to choose how to live it, free of obligation._

_ Their friendship had grown quickly from that day, nothing holding them back, nobody there to tell them it was wrong._

_ The relationship had changed again, about a month in. Harry began having visions again. The first time it had happened, Draco didn't know what to do. Harry was screaming in his sleep, screams of pure terror. The sound had travelled all through the house to make it to Draco's room. Draco had raced to Harry's room, expecting to see the poor boy being murdered in his sleep, but all he found was a tormented boy clutching his forehead, curled into a ball on his bed._

_ He tried to shake him, to wake him, but nothing worked, nothing would calm him. Out of options, Draco had sat on the bed beside him, and carefully gathered the boy in his arms, in a desperate attempt to give him some form of comfort._

_ It hadn't served to ward off the visions, but had at least calmed Harry when he finally broke out of the vision. It had taken Harry nearly ten minutes to realize what was going on, that Draco was holding him. He had pushed the blond boy away, cursing him. He didn't speak to him for days._

_ The visions came frequently, and every time Draco would go to Harry. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened or how, but soon Harry was not pushing Draco away, soon he was seeking out the comfort. He even told Draco the content of his visions._

_ That was the first night, and the last at that time, that Harry had cried in front of him. He cried out of grief, out of frustration, out of worry for his friends and all he had left them to. Draco had sat silently, patiently listening. It was also the first night they had kissed. They never spoke about it afterwards, there was no need to. It seemed the most natural, perfect thing in the world. Neither debated it, neither resisted it. It was meant to be._

_ Draco bought the pendant for Harry the next day. A charm to ward of evil spirits. It had been a joke, of course the red coral pendant was not going to ward off Voldemort, but both boys felt the depth of the meaning behind it. Neither would let any harm come to the other._

_ As the months went by, they grew ever closer. But something else was happening as well, Harry was changing. His eyes grew darker, he spent more hours in contemplative silence, his brooding more intense. Harry was still having visions, but denying them._

_ Nearly six months after their escape to Italy, Draco had felt a monumental shift in his lover, but he didn't know what to make of it. Harry acted no differently towards him, they were closer than ever, physically and mentally._

_ Draco should have listened to his gut that night, paid attention to the signs more closely. Harry had regained all his magic, and then some. That night had been the most passionate they had spent together. He should have known._

_ Draco had fallen asleep that night, content, Harry by his side. When he woke, Harry was gone. There was no trace of him, like he had never existed._

_ Numbness had overwhelmed him. _

Just as it did now. He felt the same now as when Harry had left for the first time. He felt empty, and utterly, completely alone. He had no hope left. Harry would not come back this time. He couldn't hold his tears back any longer, and they flowed freely from him. He let out a choking sob, clutching his hand to his chest, pressing the pendants into where he felt there must be a gaping hole where his heart had once existed. He tried to hold it back, not wanting to wake Antigone, but it only made the pain worse. He slid down next to her and gathered the little girl closely into his chest.

Her little eyes fluttered open, meeting his softly. She reached up and stroked the side of his face. "It's okay, Draco, you can cry."

He wasn't able to contain it any longer and let the sobs take over his body. Draco was just as broken as the man he loved. Nothing would change that now.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Harry tore himself from Draco, feeling as though something inside him were tearing to shreds at the same time. He distracted himself, fiddling with his gun and sword, replacing them both at his side. He couldn't bear to look at Draco, not now. More tears began to spring to his eyes and he had go get away. He strode into his bedroom, almost collapsing to the floor. He flung open the closet door and grabbed the first thing he saw, a long black trench coat.

He didn't know what to do. But he had to leave, he just had to. He couldn't leave Draco again, this time there would be no-

He opened the drawer in the table beside his bed, reaching for the Horn pendant he kept there always. Before his fingers touched the coral surface, he pulled his hand out, clenching his fist. No, he couldn't have anything that reminded him of this. Nothing to make his life more miserable than it already was. He slammed the drawer shut and left the room, pulling the collar of the coat high up on his neck.

He was focused straight ahead. He would not look over when he passed. _Please don't, please don't..._ Harry pleaded silently with himself and with Draco, not to do anything to make him stay. _No..._ Harry almost cried when Draco's hand reached out and grabbed his arm. The contact made Harry stand still. _Just be strong, Harry. You can't do this!_

Harry mentally steeled himself and turned his head to face Draco, his body still facing to the door. He was determined to leave, even though he could feel the electricity flowing between their bodies just as well as Draco could. He didn't trust his voice, but he had to speak. He had to end it. "Goodbye Draco." His voice cracked. _Good, you've said it, now get the hell out of here before-_ Harry's eyes softened, seeing the pain in Draco's, the pleading for him to stay. "I always loved you." The words slid easily out of his mouth before his brain could stop them. _No! Why would you say that!_ He pushed all emotion to the back of his mind, his eyes icing over. He ripped his arm out of Draco's grip harshly, turning his head away and walking out the door. Nothing could have made him look back. He was leaving for good this time. He had no reason to return.

His dark and gloomy thoughts dictated where he went next. With his mind full of images of cold rain and dark, stormy seas, he apparated into the unknown.

His mind was foggy as he travelled through the blackness, he was obviously moving a very long distance, he'd never been in the process of apparating this long before.

He landed hard, his knees buckling slightly under his exhausted weight. Wherever he was, it wasn't night time, from what he could tell, the sun was still high in the sky, though the thick cover of cloud made it impossible to tell for sure. It wasn't raining, but looked like the skies would open up at any moment.

He was standing on a rocky beach, the harsh, choppy ocean beating hard against the shore, 20 ft from where he stood. He lost himself in the ebb and flow of the water, in the violence of it. Harry chuckled to himself bitterly, he couldn't have subconsciously picked a better place to go, wherever this place was. It matched his mood perfectly.

He flipped his collar up, protecting himself from the bitter wind. Looking around, he found himself to be completely alone, the only indication there was actually life nearby was a lighthouse off in the distance, it's intermittent flashing light almost calling him forwards.

Harry walked for what seemed like hours, stumbling on the outcrops of rocks. The afternoon was starting to turn dark and he could see the lights of a small city off in the distance. He reached the small town just as the last of the light was leaving for the day. He didn't notice much as he wandered through the town. All the buildings looked the same, to him anyway.

The few people wandering around town still looked at him strangely. They were bundled up in warm clothing and rain gear. At least they spoke English, from the little bits of conversations his mind had absorbed as he wandered along.

His coat did nothing to keep out the bitter cold, but being already so numb on the inside, Harry hardly noticed the numbness that was now attacking him from the outside.

All around him stores were closing up shop for the evening. A quick glance at the signs on the doors told him that they closed at 5. He must be farther north for it to be this pitch dark at only 5pm.

He stared blankly at the sidewalk ahead of him and felt his hair quickly become damp as the skies opened up above him, the chilling rain pounding down on him.

Harry pushed his way into a building, it's open light still flickering, threatening to burn out at any second. The half dozen patrons of what Harry quickly recognized as a local bar fell silent as a newcomer entered their sanctuary. Harry absorbed as much information from this room as he could. At least he had figured out where he was, a large red and white maple leaf flag hung proudly above the bar. At least he had stayed in the commonwealth.

The warmth inside this room hit Harry like a sauna, his skin prickling as feeling returned to his fingertips. Never had Harry been so happy to be warm. The occupants of the bar and the bartender stared at him silently for a moment before returning to their previous conversation. Harry strode up to the bar and took a seat on the tattered bar stool. He could feel the sword shift at his side, the silver hilt digging deep into his hip. He ignored it, not wanting to shift it aside, the least amount of attention he drew, the better. He pushed his sopping hair out of his face, the lightning shaped scar on his forehead faintly visible in the dim, flickering light.

He silently observed the bartender for a moment, inspecting the twenty dollar bill the man held in his hands. Harry slipped his hand into his own pocket, conjuring some money of his own. This was how he had survived the many years on his own, being unwilling to go anywhere near his Gringotts account. He was fairly certain that nobody else had ever figured out how to do this, otherwise, the whole world would be billionaires.

"What can I get for you?" The scruffy, middle aged bartender asked him, slinging a slightly damp towel over his shoulder as he placed a clean glass down before Harry. The man was weathered, he looked as if he had worked hard, outdoors for many years. His face was kind though, and Harry felt no ill feelings towards him.

"Whiskey." Harry replied automatically, seemingly having forgotten what had happened the last time he had tried to drink, though the scenario had only played itself out less than twelve hours before. He didn't make eye contact with the bartender.

The man turned and retrieved a bottle from and upper shelf behind him, looking back at Harry warily. He poured a small amount in the glass sitting in front of Harry. "Three dollars." Harry reached into his pocket again, pulling out the twenty dollar bill and sliding it across the bar top. "Just keep 'em coming."

The bartender took the bill, pocketing it. "Sure thing, kid." His gaze lingered on Harry, trying to decipher the strange foreign, dark haired man sitting in his bar.

Harry smirked as he tossed the drink back. He wasn't sure he'd ever been addressed as 'kid' before. He found it almost comical, refreshing even, to not be recognized. The amber liquid burned its path down his throat and into his stomach, speeding up his process of warming up. His gut did not react as it had earlier, and for that he was glad. He pushed his glass forward, indicating he wanted another. The bartender obliged, still unquestioning, though obviously curious. Harry couldn't help but notice that every eye had remained trained on him since he had entered the bar.

He swirled the liquid in his glass, not downing it immediately this time. He felt out of place, not knowing exactly where he was. He could change that. He breathed deeply and stared intently at the back of the bartender's head, now attending to two women who had just entered. Harry pushed his mind outwards, focusing his thoughts towards the bartender. He felt the exact moment that his mind entered the bartender's, it's unfamiliar thought pattern feeling strange and foreign, the same as always.

Harry rummaged through a lot of useless information before he came upon what he was searching for, a location, an address. Prince Rupert, that was the name of the town. A small, extremely remote fishing town located on the West coast of British Columbia, near the Alaskan border. Population: under 15,000. It was perfect.

Harry pulled himself out of the man's thoughts, resuming his inspection of his drink. He drank it down as the bartender came back, motioning for yet another.

"You're gonna wanna pace yourself, kid, the rate you're going." the bartender remarked, hesitant to give him another drink.

Harry's intense stare seemed to easily convince him that he needed another. "Perhaps you can help me." Harry continued to stare. The bartender nodded. "I just got here today and I'm looking for a job and a place to stay. Know of anything?"

The bartender smiled, almost looked amused as he looked at Harry's small body concealed under the large black coat. He turned his attention away from Harry and over to one of the regulars sitting at a table with a few other men. "Hey, Jack, come on over here for a bit."

A large, burly blond man stood from the table, beer in hand, and approached the bar. He couldn't be any older than thirty five. He had obviously just come from work, still wearing his bright yellow rubber overalls. He sat on the stool next to Harry. Harry was sure that this man looked intimidating to most others, but after all the encounters with Voldemort and Death Eaters, he didn't inspire the usual scare factor. "What's up, Sam?" He looked over at Harry. "Who's the new kid?"

"I'm looking for a job and a place to stay." Harry replied bluntly, looking Jack in the eyes. Harry realized he must have let his face relax slightly when Jack didn't seem to take him seriously right away.

Jack smiled obligingly at him. "No offence, kid, but you don't look so healthy. You think you can hack it? It's hard work over here, mostly hauling nets and pots."

Harry cracked a grin, smirking out of the corner of his mouth. He removed his coat, at least he was warm now. He folded it in half and laid it on the stool next to him, resting his forearms on the bar. His shirt was tight, showing off the powerful muscles hidden beneath the surface of his back and arms. Harry could see Jack particularly admiring a long scar that ran along Harry's left bicep. "I had a long day of travelling, I'm tired, that's all." Harry tried to explain the exhaustion that was written all over his face.

Jack pretended to back off a little. "Whoah." He raised his arms in mock surrender. "I take it back." He laughed. "What kind of work are you looking for? I could use a strong guy like you." Jack's face looked hopeful.

"Doesn't make a shit bit of difference to me what the work is." Harry replied, chuckling lightly.

"Now that's the kind of attitude I like!" Jack laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "What's your name, kid? When do you want to start?"

"Name's Damien. Damien Evans. Tomorrow wouldn't be soon enough."

Jack scratched his head. "Well, it's Saturday night," 'Was it?' Harry thought. He hadn't kept track of the days in quite some time, "why don't you show up first thing Monday morning, 8am, down at the docks. It'll give you a day to get some rest, get settled in. Looks like you could use a good night's sleep first. Jetlag?" He ventured a guess.

Harry just nodded in agreement. It wasn't likely he would get a good night's sleep no matter how exhausted or jet lagged he was.

"Now, you're from England, right? Do you have a work visa, or do you-"

Harry absently reached over to his jacket again and hastily conjured all his required paperwork, drivers license, work visa and passport. He flashed them towards Jack. He didn't need to inspect them now.

"Good." Jack smiled. "Saves me the paperwork. Seeing as you're from the UK, at least our weather won't bother you. Rainiest city in Canada, we are here." He laughed. "Shit, you still need a place to stay, don't you. Well, Lorraine usually has a few places for rent, but it's a bit late to see her tonight. I'd stay in the motel tonight and pop by to see her tomorrow. It'll give you a chance to check out the town, too. Not that there's much here of course, nothing like where you're from, probably. You from-"

"London." Harry responded flatly.

"Hoo-wee, definitely nothing like London here." He laughed again. "Been there once. That city is a maze, never got used to all the streets. Grew up here, mind you, so I'm a bit spoiled with two main roads and a wide open ocean before me." He wrote some information down on a piece of paper that Sam the bartender gave him and handed it to Harry. "Do you want to discuss pay at all?"

"No. As long as it'll pay my rent and buy me food, I really don't care about anything else." Really, Harry could conjure all the money he would ever need, but he had to keep up the ruse he had begun, and he wanted to live here on as little magic as possible.

"Good to hear."

Harry stood from the stool and donned his jacket. He turned to leave, nodding slightly at Sam and Jack.

"Need your change?" Sam asked, holding a blue five dollar bill and a few coins out to Harry.

Harry shook his head and kept walking. "Consider it a down payment for tomorrow."

Both men chuckled as Harry walked away, flipping up his collar, preparing himself for the biting cold.

"Hey, Damien." Jack called. Harry turned back around. "You might want to invest in some cold weather clothing. You'll catch your death out here."

Harry almost could not contain his bitter laughter. Wouldn't that just take the cake? Fight with Voldemort for his entire life, almost being killed on numerous occasions, and dying because of the cold weather. He would prefer it that way,. He shook his head and walked out the door into the cold, black night.

Jack turned back to face Sam. "Well, that was... interesting. don't you think? Was it just me, or was that kid a little... strange?"

"Yeah. Something about him just seemed, off, or something." Sam agreed.

"Hell of a frame on him though, you see his arms?"

Sam laughed. "Remind me to never piss him off and I think we'll be fine."

The two men laughed and shared a drink. Harry would be the talk of the bar for a while to come, his strange mannerisms never quite rubbing the city the right way.

Harry found his way easily to the motel, nothing was too far apart in this town, it was a plus. the check-in clerk gave him a strange look when he didn't have a bag or luggage to take to his room, but didn't have the guts to ask Harry about it, he was too intimidated. Harry retreated from the desk the moment he was given his magnetic keycard, not responding to any of the further questions the clerk was still asking him.

Harry needed silence, his frustration level was rising. It had been too long since he had been around people on a regular basis, he would have to get used to human interaction again.

He didn't even turn on the light when he entered the room, the faint light creeping in from the street lights was enough for him to see. He did a quick round of the room, his paranoia about things lying in wait for him still present. He shook his head, trying to remind himself that there was nothing here to get him. Nobody knew where he was. Nobody would ever find him.

He unstrapped the sword and gun from his hip, placing the gun on the night stand beside the bed and propping the sword up on the armchair next to the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. He opened the sliding glass door to the balcony and leaned on the rail, lighting up a cigarette. There was just enough light in the city still that he could see the faint reflections of light glimmering off the surface of the ocean.

He let the cold air envelop him, the coldness on his skin soon matching the coldness he felt on the inside. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed. Already, he could not get the haunting image of Draco's eyes out of his mind. There was no way he'd be able to sleep tonight without nightmares.

Harry finished his cigarette and combed his hand through his still wet hair. He shut the sliding door behind him on his way back in.

He removed his shirt and pants, stiffening slightly when the shirt stuck to the now healing wound on his side. It had finally begun to scab over, there was no danger of it pulling open anymore. He contemplated getting in the shower, but he simply didn't have the energy. Sliding under the covers of the comfortable bed, Harry pulled the blankets high under his chin, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, trying to keep his warmth close.

He reached up to the hollow on his neck, expecting to find the horn pendant that normally hung there, and was surprised to find his neck bare. He forgot. He had left it behind. Harry closed his eyes and instantly the stormy grey eyes of Draco returned. Harry's eyes snapped open again. How was he ever going to do this?

Harry arose the next morning, his head in a fog. He hadn't slept. He hadn't expected to. He had re-dressed and headed out into the town, wandering absently, becoming familiar with his surroundings. There really wasn't much there, and that calmed him a little. He easily found the address of the woman he was told would rent him a place to stay. He knocked on her door.

He heard bustling footsteps from just inside the door and moments later the door flew open, revealing a slightly plump, worn looking, middle aged woman. She wore a warm, easy smile on her face and ushered him inside. Jack had told her that he was coming.

Harry stepped slowly into her home, his heavy boots sounding loudly on the old wood floors. Her house was filled with the kind of useless knick knacks that only served to make a house more welcoming. He followed her into the kitchen, where there was a nice, hot pot of tea waiting.

"Please, sit." She motioned to a chair by the kitchen table. Harry sat, flapping his coat out behind him and inconspicuously adjusting the invisible sword at his side. He certainly wasn't going to leave that in the motel room. "It's Damien, right?"

"Yes." Harry responded simply, sipping the warm beverage.

"Well, welcome to town Damien. I understand you're looking for a place to stay? What brought you here?" She asked cheerfully, curious for information. Her warm face and cheery manner reminded Harry far too much of Mrs. Weasley. He found it slightly unnerving.

Harry's jaw clenched as he thought of the reasons behind his departure, trying to push those unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind. "My reasons for leaving, are certainly not the concern of anyone here, nor will they ever be for that matter." Harry replied coldly.

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't mean to pry." Lorraine's face fell and she looked truly apologetic.

Harry's face relaxed and he rubbed his forehead, his scar was tingling slightly, it had been doing so fairly constantly for the last twenty-four hours. He supposed he would have to make an effort to get along with these people, he couldn't see himself leaving here anytime soon. He waved his hand at her, dismissing her apology. "I'm sorry. My leaving London is a touchy subject." Harry put on a fake smile to reassure her. It worked.

She shook her head. "Oh, how silly of me, I never even properly introduced myself. My name's Lorraine Herberts, usually everyone just calls me Lorri." She stuck out her hand and Harry shook it.

During the time their hands were connected, Harry took the opportunity to have a look in her mind, just out of curiosity. She was a genuinely kind person with a sharp wit buried deep down. Harry was sure they would get along.

They soon found a place for Harry to stay. A little detached house on the south side of town. The large front window faced out West, the faint outline of Digby Island visible across the 2km expanse of sea separating them. The rent was good, the house semi-secluded. It was a little run down, but that didn't really matter to Harry. It even came already furnished, though sparsely, saving Harry the trouble of buying furniture he could have easily just conjured.

Lorri had stuck around, trying to help Harry get settled, her mothering tendencies taking over. She seemed to feel that Harry was in need of human contact, and whether he wanted it or not, she was there to provide it. This, surprisingly, didn't make Harry feel uncomfortable, though he did still usher her out as soon as possible.

Once he was alone in the house he unstrapped his weapons, placing them, still concealed, in his bedroom.

Now desperately in need of a shower, he trudged into the bathroom and stripped down. He stood in the shower for nearly an hour, the water becoming cold, the water pounding down hard on his back. He still managed to keep his mind empty.

Something was going to have to change. Harry's mind was too full of unwanted thoughts, there were too many things to dwell on in his solitude.

He shut the shower off forcefully and stepped out, his soaking hair falling down into his eyes. He quickly dried and pulled his clothes back on. He stormed out of the house as soon as he was clothed, walking quickly towards the bar where he had first made himself known the previous night.

His first day of work had been just as he expected. Jack had tested him with menial tasks all day, seeing just what his new guy could do. He had, of course, been extremely surprised with Harry's strength and unbridled work ethic, praising him at every step of the way.

"I might even let you go out on the boat trips if you keep this up, Damien." Jack had joked after the end of a shift as they sat in the bar, sharing a round of drinks.

Harry fell easily into his new routine, working, going to the bar, going home. He spoke to very few people, Lorri and Jack were the exceptions. Harry was sure that his co-workers were decent enough, he just couldn't make himself care enough to try and hold a conversation with them. Their worries were just so mundane. He couldn't help comparing their lives to his own and he found their daily complaints of hardships just too absurd to be worth acknowledging.

His one exception to this group was a kid he worked with the most on a daily basis. His name was Lucas and he was eighteen. Harry had taken to listening into everyone's minds, he told himself only to evaluate their personalities, but really, deep down, because he was paranoid, on the lookout for anything or anyone who might cause him trouble. Lucas' was simple, the thoughts in his head no different from what he said out loud. He was shy and awkward, and in a strange way, reminded Harry of himself when he was younger. He would almost say that he enjoyed Lucas' company.

His normal routine had not been broken either. He still did not sleep. He was still haunted in the night time hours by the nightmares that had plagued him for years. Flashbacks, visions, memories of all kinds, flooded him relentlessly.

Voldemort still searched for him fervently, the violence in the wizarding world growing worse and worse. Many died every day.

Voldemort's resistance to death still perplexed Harry, boiled his rage. He had killed Nagini, the one remaining horcrux! How could he not have died that day? The sword of Gryffindor had pierced Voldemort right through the heart, and yet he still stood, unharmed.

Analysing this was what occupied most of Harry's errant thoughts.

Though these visions were terrifying, haunting and unbearable, they didn't compare to the one thing truly eating away at him.

Those eyes still refused to leave him, staring at him intently every time he closed his eyes, their despair and desperation boring into him. Draco's eyes. Harry had thought this would pass, that they would fade the longer he was away, the more he drank, the harder he worked, the more he tried to find someone who could ease his pain, if only for one night.

It didn't work.

They never left.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

Wizarding England had been plunged into chaos. The Minister was dead, murdered in public by their former saviour. Voldemort had revealed himself publicly for the first time in five years. Most people did not know what to think, how to react. There was too much to contemplate, too many conflicting stories to process. Nobody knew what to believe anymore.

Mass socializing stopped. Too many people were worried that they would say something wrong, an onlooker, trying to get on the good side of the Ministry, would report them and they would be arrested, or worse, killed.

People wandered emotionlessly, terrified of everything around them. That was just the way Voldemort wanted it. Everything was going according to his plan.

There was no one leading the Ministry now, in fact, the organization itself had almost completely disbanded. Death Eaters now roamed the streets freely during the day, passing judgement, upholding the law, keeping the masses under control.

St. Mungo's was overrun with the sick, injured and cursed, though only those that met with the Eaters approval were treated.

Hermione had not been one of them, she hadn't taken the risk even trying to go.

Immediately following the battle, Ginny had whisked Hermione and Ron, or his body, rather, away to the Burrow.

"Mom! George! Help!" Ginny had wailed as she landed the group in the shabby living room.

Molly had come running as fast as she could, George following closely behind. The pair had stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Ginny crouched down low over Ron, Hermione lay nearly unmoving beside them. All three were covered in blood, Ginny covered in Ron's.

Molly ran to her children's side, flinging herself upon the body of her youngest, and only one of 3 remaining, son. "No!" She screamed. "Not my baby boy!"

George had shared in the grief, unable to shed a tear after witnessing so many deaths. There were only three siblings left now, Bill, himself and Ginny. He watched from afar as his mother turned her attention to Hermione, barely staying conscious, clinging to the body of her husband.

She had lost her baby. Her bleeding had slowed, but she had still lost a lot of blood and it had taken Molly a few hours to stabilize her. George had helped move her to one of the upstairs bedrooms, Ron's old room, and Molly had tended to her there, with Ginny never leaving her side.

She had fully regained consciousness a few hours later, only to succumb to wracking sobs of grief and anger.

Ginny had tearfully explained to her remaining family about Harry and his sudden appearance that day, her voice numb when speaking of him. She was torn between relief that he was alive, her love for him still ever strong, to anger over Harry's accidental murder of her brother and the lack of remorse he seemed to have over it, to utter devastation as she fully comprehended that the man she used to know was no more, and he was never coming back.

Molly didn't know how to comfort her, she was just as shocked by Harry's return as the rest of them.

Hermione's physical recovery was painfully slow, her emotional recovery over the loss of both her unborn child and her husband was non-existent. She didn't sleep, she didn't eat, she couldn't be persuaded to try. Nothing remained for her on this earth, especially not after it had been her former best friend responsible for the murder of her husband.

She clutched at her abdomen, all evidence of her would-be child long gone.

She would never forgive Harry. She couldn't.

Why couldn't he have just been dead, like they had all thought. Life would have been so much easier if they had just been able to suffer through it like they always had. Instead, now they clung to a hope that would never realize itself, a hope deep in the back of the minds of everyone who had seen Harry that day.

He was back. He was alive. Would he do a thing to help them? Most thought not.

There were a few who rallied around his return. Former Hogwarts students, classmates, members of the DA. Luna, Seamus, Dean, Bill Weasley, Fleur, just to name a few. They secretly rejoiced in his return. They had a tangible reason to hope now, their own struggle for freedom renewed with vigour.

They were few. They were alone. But they would fight, knowing they could die.

They would not let their world go without giving it one last kick on its way out. They owed Harry that much, whether he would ever return to them or not.

Grimmauld Place had remained empty since Draco had returned that day, none of the Weasley's returning while he still resided there. This, at least, gave him some semblance of peace. He never grew comfortable with the house though, its empty rooms reminding him too much of his mother.

He lived his days numb and apathetic, his thoughts constantly drifting to Harry. He often fiddled with the two charms that hung on the silver chain around his neck, the presence of them pulling him back to the memory of Harry's departure. He felt too far away from the dark haired man. He needed to be somewhere where he could feel his presence. Grimmauld Place still held the faint aura of the old Harry, but it was new, troubled Harry that Draco wanted to remember, and there was nothing of that man here.

He decided they would leave.

"Antigone, sweetheart, we can't stay here anymore." He knelt before her as she played with some toys in the play room.

Her little hands ceased playing with the doll and looked straight up at him, a sad, pained expression on her face. "What?" She questioned. "Are we going to America?" She became excited.

Draco shook his head. "No, no, we're not going to America."

"But you promised. you said that-"

"I know." Draco was momentarily sharp with her but pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and calmed down. "I know I said we would go to America, but I can't- I can't go there anymore."

"Why?"

"It's complicated, Tig, I don't expect you to understand."

"Where are we going then?" She stood before Draco, with him kneeling their faces were level. She put her hands on his shoulders.

"We're going to stay at Harry's house." Draco felt tears rush to his eyes at the mention of Harry's name, just speaking it brought back all the emotions that he had buried momentarily.

"Harry's?" Antigone asked, a hint of fright in her voice. "I didn't like it there! Harry was mean and scary and he yelled a lot!" She buried herself into Draco's chest, letting her insecurities shine through.

Draco sighed. "He... he's not going to be there. We're just going to stay in his house."

"Where did he go?" She asked innocently and Draco was about ready to shoot the inquisitive 5 year old brain.

"He had to go away for a while, that's all."

"Just like Miss Hermione ad Ron." She smiled as she thought that she had put together the puzzle all on her own.

"Not quite, honey." He smiled falsely. Was she ever going to give up on the questions?

"Why did he go away?"

"Something happened that made him sad and he had to go away."

"What happened."

Draco was about ready to snap. "No more questions, Antigone." He spoke harshly, and she flinched back away from him slightly.

"I'm sorry Draco." She bowed her head in shame. "You're not going to send me back to daddy, are you?" Her pleading eyes looked up at him with their puppy dog stare.

All the anger melted off his face at once and he pulled his sister close to him. "No, sweetheart, you're never going to have to see him again, I promise."

"How can you promise? He's my daddy, he can just come and take me." She began to cry, hysteria seeping into her voice.

Draco argued with himself over whether to tell her the truth or not, the image of his dead father laying on the street, blood pooling all around him, entering his mind. Truth won out. "You'll never have to see him again, Tig, because daddy's never coming back. He's dead."

Antigone's breath hitched in her throat and she let out a meek cry. Draco rubbed her back soothingly, whispering nonsense words of comfort in her ear. "Draco..." Her meek voice was barely audible, squished into his chest. Draco pushed her back slightly so he could look at her tearstained face. "Is it bad that I don't feel sad?" She asked in such a quiet voice that Draco had barely heard her.

He crushed her back to his chest. "No, baby, it's not bad at all." He smoothed down her hair.

"I hope he doesn't see Mommy." She began to cry harder and Draco realized that was what her anxiety was over. She was worried about Lucius being mean to their mother in the afterlife.

"Oh, baby, no, daddy would never be good enough to go where mommy went. Don't worry about her." He kissed her on the forehead.

The pair sat embracing for quite a while. Draco finally decided that it was time for bed, when in reality he just needed an excuse to be alone. His depression was starting to creep up on him as the night wore on, bright green eyes forcing their way back to the front of his mind.

He didn't know if it would be a blessing or a curse, deciding to stay in Harry's former home. If the things that had belonged to Harry would serve to comfort him, or drive him insane.

They left early the next morning, packing up the few possessions they had. Draco didn't think twice about taking some of Ron's old clothes from their bedroom, he certainly wouldn't be needing them anymore. The clothes were tacky and nearly threadbare, too big, but at least they were clean, and that was one step higher than what Draco had been wearing for nearly the last week straight.

He found a duffel bag and shoved the clothing inside, adding a few toys as well, for Antigone. Kreacher had obtained some clothes for Antigone as well, there were a few hidden chests around the house, containing clothes from the children of generations past. They would just have to do.

Draco took Antigone by the hand and led her out the front door of the house, not lingering on the doorstep before apparating them away.

How Draco ever thought this had been a good idea was entirely beyond him. Just stepping into the front hall of Harry's house sent waves of sorrow and pain flowing through him. He almost felt as though he couldn't breathe, his chest clenching tightly. He gripped the charms on the necklace and pressed them hard against his chest, his feeble attempt to stave off the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Antigone had continued on inside without him. She looked back, her curious gaze silently questioning why her older brother, her protector, was not following. Upon seeing the pained expression on his face, she returned to him, holding her small hand out towards him, beckoning him to take it in his grasp.

As soon as he did, some of the warmth returned to his body, the tight grip on his chest loosening slightly, but not much. She smiled up at him and pulled him farther into the house. Antigone was now his only grip on sanity, his only light in the ever darkening world around him.

He placed the duffel bag on the floor, next to the armchair, the only place he had seen Harry sit. He grazed his fingers along the rough material of its arm and smiled. He felt the connection.

His eyes scanned the rest of the room, flashes of encounters bombarding him with every glance of something.

Empty liquor bottles lay strewn on the floor, which was covered in a layer of filth, having never been cleaned, not by Harry, at least. He felt a sudden surge of responsibility to make this place liveable. His sister could not live in conditions like this, it was not healthy. Really, though, he wanted it presentable for when Harry came back.

Draco's mind stumbled on that last thought. Harry come back? Yes, he was still clinging to the hope that Harry would return.

Of course he remembered vividly the look on Harry's face when he had left, how could he not. He did not intend to come back. But Draco couldn't just give up, not now. Not after Harry's confession. He would not let that man walk out of his life twice without making an effort to see him again. That's why he came to this house now, and that's why he never intended on leaving.

A few spells and a lot of elbow grease had the dingy house looking almost homey by the end of the day. What anybody would have given to see Draco Malfoy covered in sweat and dust after a hard days work.

The work had, at least, managed to distract him for a few hours, so focused on his task that he didn't have time to let the darkness sink down on him any further. Night was fast approaching and he was sure he wouldn't be able to keep the pain and loneliness away for much longer, especially not when he intended Harry's room to become his own. Harry was a very powerful wizard, and his magical aura was lingering, Draco was sure it would be weeks before it was gone completely.

He got Antigone settled into her room, the walls now bright and cheery with the removal of the grime. Her toys were already scattered over the floor. He stood in the doorway to her room, leaning on the frame and watched her as she played, imagining innocent worlds where nothing mattered other than what was right in front of her. He envied her innocence.

He conjured a kitchen full of groceries with a spell he had sometimes used in America when he was too lazy to go to the store himself. He wouldn't risk being seen in public, not now, not with Antigone to care for.

Draco had been careful not to sit on any of the furniture yet, unsure of how he would react once he finally managed to settle down and relax. But he couldn't avoid it for much longer, his body ached and he was tired. It was getting late. He hadn't dared go into Harry's room yet, except to quickly clean it.

Antigone was put to bed, sleeping angelically in her new room. He couldn't avoid it any longer. He slowly entered the room, removing his clothes and pulling on a pair of sweatpants he had taken from Grimmauld Place. He walked to the foot of the bed, reaching his fingertips out to graze the charcoal bedspread. Walking along the side of the bed, he let his fingers trail behind him on the comforter until he reached the head.

He carefully peeled back the linens and stared at the charcoal sheets that rested beneath them. Tears prickled at the back of Draco's eyes. He could almost picture Harry laying there, sound asleep. He lowered himself onto the bed, the soft mattress sinking slightly under his weight. He swung his feet up onto the bed as well, sitting in a half upright position.

He pulled the soft down pillow close to himself, hugging it under his head. He pulled the comforter over himself and curled into a ball, pulling it closely under his chin to keep the chill of the night out. Though the bed was now warm, a shiver still ran through Draco's body.

He breathed in deeply, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to fall. In an instant he was assaulted with Harry's unique smell. A combination of spices, cinnamon and pine flooded his senses. How he had missed this. A perfect match to the memory he had in his head. This was truly Harry. So many nights they had lay together in Italy, Draco breathing deep in his lover's scent.

The smell overwhelmed Draco more than he had ever expected and he was bombarded by images, flashbacks of the two of them together, every happy moment they had ever shared. It was too much for Draco to bear. He broke down, crying into the pillow to which he clung so desperately, willing it to change forms, to become the man he wished were laying next to him.

Eventually, Draco grew so exhausted that he fell into a fitful sleep full of dreams, nightmares really. Those haunting green eyes floated in the forefront of all these dreams, but there was something different, something new. The ocean was the backdrop. A dark, ragged shoreline, looking out to the setting sun, violent waves crashing upon its bank.

Wherever he was, Harry was near the ocean, the violent brooding nature of the sea a perfect match for his tormented love.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

The boat pitched and rolled under Harry's feet as it jogged along its way out to the open sea. He stood at the bow of the small boat, leaning forwards on the railing, eyes closed, his other senses taking in his surroundings. The icy spray kicked up by the large waves pounding the side of the boat soaked Harry as he stood directly in their path. He didn't care. The cold water invigorated him, gave him what little pleasure out of life he was still able to hang on to.

Harry had scarcely felt more at home than he had in his last two months in this coastal British Columbian city. Here, nothing was expected of him, no more than his basic work duties anyway. People here left him be, sensing that he was not one to be bothered. All except Lorri of course.

An almost smirk formed at the corner of Harry's mouth at the thought of her. The dark expression on his face did not fade, but it certainly cut its severity. He opened his eyes and turned, leaning back on the railing this time, his bare arms crossed over his chest. Lorraine stood ten feet in front of him, struggling to keep her balance on the tilting deck. The wind whipping around the deck made it impossible for Harry to hear what she was saying, but she was gesturing him to come back inside.

He puffed his cigarette one last time and threw the butt overboard before following her back into the wheel house, the only enclosed section on the entire boat.

They were the only two on the boat today, taking it out to run it after some routine maintenance. This was Lorri's personal boat, not one of the commercial ones Harry had grown used to working on. He enjoyed the slight shift in scenery. His hand trailed over the black painted lettering spelling out the name of the boat. 'Serenity' it read, its block letters covering the front of the wheel house.

Harry laughed bitterly at the irony every time he stepped foot on this boat. And yet, it was almost fitting, for Harry never felt as calm, as in control of himself as when he was here on the water. He followed the matriarch inside, where she resumed her stance behind the wheel.

"What were you doing out there, Dame?" She was the only one who got away with calling him by the abbreviated version of his new name. "Trying to catch your death? It's barely above freezing and you're gallivanting out in your t-shirt." She half-heatedly scolded.

Truthfully, Harry didn't feel the cold anymore, his body had grown just as numb as his mind. He only shook his head at her and didn't respond.

She had grown used to his non-verbal responses and didn't push him for a response. She was one of the only ones who had been drawn to Harry, courteous enough to keep from prying into his past, not too much anyway. Of course she was curious, but she could see the haunted look in Harry's eyes, the wild anger that festered not too far under the surface. She was not willing to test how far she could push until the resolve that held it all back, snapped.

"Jack was saying he might give you a raise again soon." She made light conversation with Harry.

Harry snorted. "And what am I to do with it? I've already got more money that I know what to do with in this little town."

"Isn't there something you want, Damien, somewhere you want to go? Like a holiday or something?"

"No." Harry flatly responded. He hated all the attention he got because of his work. He was the best. Every man wanted him on their crew when they went out on the boats, but come the end of the day, no man wanted to sit next to him in the bar. There was something about him that they didn't trust, and Harry would very much like to keep it that way.

Harry's attention was drawn back to the stormy, tumultuous landscape in front of him. He pointed his hand out to the port bow. "Look out for that outcropping of rock." He warned Lorri calmly and cooly. She didn't see it, the rocks blending seamlessly into the turmoil of the sea. He took the wheel from her, steering them around it, his magic guiding them to safety.

Harry's magic was really what he had to thank for his success here. With Harry's subconscious use of his magic, it heightened his senses, making him vastly more aware of the hazards around him, keeping him more stable on the rocking boat decks, things like that. He was almost unaware that it helped him, guided him through his everyday monotony.

"Thanks Dame." Lorri whispered, staring at Harry in the way she did when she had a thought about him. When something clued her in that there was something different about Damien Evans, and not just the fact that he was more brooding than any other man she knew. She would never be able to put her finger on just what separated him from the rest, try as she might.

The boy had a troubled past, that much she knew for certain. One look at his muscled and scarred body would be enough to tell anybody that.

"Let's get back to the harbour before this storm really kicks up." She stated, still puzzling over Damien's current empty expression, watching him as he stared, unblinking out into the gloomy grey abyss in front of them.

Harry nodded and stepped out of the wheel house again, suddenly feeling too confined in the small area. Lorri was too perceptive. Any longer with her and she might start digging into his past again. She was more subtle than the rest, but Harry was worried she would catch him off guard sooner or later, and the last thing he wanted to do was reveal anything about himself.

He walked effortlessly across the rolling deck, taking his place at the bow once again. The grey clouds in the sky grew thicker, making everything around him look like he was living in black and white, the only pops of colour came from the bright orange buoys hanging off the sides of the boat.

This was a small crab fishing boat, it's deck loaded with half a dozen iron and rope cages, prepped and ready to be lowered into the water. They were secured tightly to the side rails of the boat, if they hadn't been they would currently be skidding across the deck. A small assortment of other things littered the deck as well, creating a maze across its wet planks.

Soon, the harbour began to creep out of the haze, they were almost returned to the shore.

Harry moved quickly to untie the bright orange buoys that hung from the side of the boat, letting them dangle low enough to be positioned between the boat and the dock. Lorrie sidled up to the dock perfectly, despite the terrible weather and the waves pushing the boat in the opposite direction she wanted to go.

Harry effortlessly vaulted himself over the side of the boat, onto the slippery dock, crouching to absorb the impact, it would have been too far for a normal man to jump. He held a rope in his hand and tied the boat off to the two large capstans on the dock. He stood and waited for Lorri to shut off the engine and join him.

She lifted her leg over the side of the boat and lowered herself down the rope ladder that led to the dock. A particularly violent wave crashed into the dock at that time, sending a shudder through the boat, and causing Lorri to lose her grip, slipping off the ladder towards the murky depths below.

Harry was in front of her in the blink of an eye, his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back up. Her feet were already submerged in the water. He set her down on the dock and immediately let go, backing away from her a few steps. Her face was full of fright and shock, she couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

"Damien, thank you, I-" She stuttered.

Harry only snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at her for a moment longer but she didn't say anything so he turned and left.

He had not really had physical contact with anyone since that day with Draco, and the touch had sent electricity flying through his body. He felt that she was starting to care for him as a son. How had he let that happen?

As he walked away from Lorri he was assaulted with a vision, well, more of a memory of a vision, but the familiar pain still crept into his forehead and he rubbed it, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping she would not notice. She always noticed.

_"Nobody you care about will ever be safe, Potter!"_ The voice tormented him, mocked him through his own memory.

'Who am I kidding?' Harry thought to himself as he left the harbour. 'It was silly for me to think that-' He silenced his own thoughts, forcing them to the back of his mind and locking them away. He heard Lorraine call after him, but he ignored her and picked up his pace. She called after him again and this time Harry broke into a sprint, leaving her standing in the middle of the street, desperately curious about her mysterious, brooding friend.

Harry jogged around the city, but it didn't thrill him like he thought it might. All it succeeded in doing was raising his heartbeat and putting a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. He ended up at his house. He would not go to the bar today. He needed to be as devoid of human contact as possible right now.

He entered the home and leaned on the door as he shut it behind him. He slammed his head back on the door. "Fuck!" This situation was not working out like he had hoped it would. It's not like he was becoming attached or anything, far from it, but this place was not taking his mind away from the things he wished to escape most. If anything, his memories, the visions that plagued him both night and day, seemed to be thriving here, sustaining themselves on the depressing landscape, the cold weather, the cool company.

He pushed himself away from the door angrily, pushing his wet hair off his forehead, something that had been happening a lot since arriving here. He unstrapped the magnum from his hip, re-appearing as it left his hand and landed on the couch. Two large knives sat encased beside it, a new addition. He never went anywhere without them.

He stalked to his bathroom, pulling his wet shirt off and grabbing a towel, rubbing his hair down. He draped the towel over his shoulders as he kicked off his boots and left for the kitchen.

The wound on Harry's side had finally ceased to be tender, the shiny white flesh finally hardening into the permanent form of yet another scar. He rubbed it absently, as though he could still feel where Draco's fingers had grazed it, attempting to help him. A small flash of a smile almost flitted onto Harry's features but he caught it and banished it before it could manifest itself.

He grabbed whatever bottle was closest to him on the counter and returned to the living room, lowering himself down on the couch. He was truly exhausted and if he was to get any sleep today, this was the way it was going to happen.

He turned the television on as he sat back against the couch. Lorraine had made him buy it, advising him that there wasn't much else to do in this town. He silently thanked her for it in that moment, it gave him background noise, something to help filter out his own thoughts. He stopped on a sports game, American football by the look of it.

He leaned his head back on the armrest and unscrewed the lid of the bottle, tipping it back to meet his waiting lips. What remained in the bottle was quickly gone, as was Harry's consciousness. For now his mind was momentarily black, nothing invaded his mind here, nothing ever did, for a while anyway. They always came back. Always.

Somewhere around the time that Harry still slept, his blackness transitioning to his ever-present nightmares, his front door clicked open quietly. Harry's left arm lay over his eyes, his right hung off the edge of the couch, the empty bottle clutched lightly in his fingers. He didn't stir.

The door opened fully, revealing Lorri. She peeked around the door, that did technically belong to her, for any sign that the mysterious dark haired man had been alerted to her entrance. She caught sight of him passed out on the couch and relaxed. He most definitely did not know she was here.

She wandered over to him slowly, taking care not to step on the boards she knew were squeaky. She looked solemnly down at him, unable to see his face due to his arm covering it. His chest rose deeply, evenly, he was certainly fully asleep.

She glanced around the room, he had not added anything to it in the nearly two months he had lived here, like he felt he didn't belong, like he didn't plan on staying. Her eyes caught a glimpse of black and silver laying on the coffee table and she drew closer to see what it was. She barely suppressed a loud gasp as she recognized the large gun and knives.

She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she instinctively reached out to touch them, her fingertips only millimetres from its surface, when a strong hand clamped itself around her wrist. She immediately tried to pull her hand back, but it was locked tightly. She hadn't even heard him stir. Her gaze flew to meet his and she instantly regretted entering the house without his knowledge. Damien's cool green eyes bored into her, no trace of sleep or confusion present in their intense stare.

"Damien, I'm sorry, please-"

Harry sat up, pushing her away and dropping her hand all in one motion. "What the fuck are you doing here, Lorri?" He asked darkly, resting his elbows on his knees. Their eyes were still connected, she was frozen in place.

"Damien, I-"

Harry stood from the couch and Lorraine found herself to be intimidated by the man for the first time. She had never found his appearance frightening until this moment. His scars stood out prominently from the rippling muscles upon which they sat. She didn't want to know how he'd gotten them, afraid of the response he would give her. He broke their gaze, picking up the holster and turning away.

With the absence of his stare, another thought entered her head, perhaps his scars weren't signs of his strength, trophies earned in bar fights or backyard brawls. Perhaps they were the scars of something that ran much deeper, a tour of duty overseas perhaps. She could think of nothing else that would scar this man so, both internally and externally.

Though he held a gun in his hand, she followed him as he walked away from her. "I'm not blind, you know." She stated plainly, but the words had come out of her mouth harsher than she had intended and she regretted it immediately.

"Excuse me?" Harry spun to face her, a disbelieving expression on his face. Had she really just said that? He tossed the holster down on the armchair nearest to the entrance of his bedroom. He strode closer to her again. "Care to explain what in the fuck you mean by that?"

Lorraine fought with herself whether to be cautious around this man or just to come straight out and say what she felt. She had never been one to hold her opinions in and this time was no different. She was used to dealing with the brutish, crude fisherman type who ruled this town.

"You're in pain, Damien, that's what!" She burst out. "You might think the people around you don't notice, but we do! How could we not! You come halfway around the world to start a new life, but you don't talk to anybody! You drink gallons in the bar every day and you certainly don't seem any happier. I don't think there's a single person here who's seen you smile, or crack a joke, or try and talk to a pretty girl. You're not alive, Damien. I see you. Let me help you. Just trust me."

Harry had let her vent. As she spoke those last words, Harry pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as he was bombarded by two separate memories, two occasions where those exact words had been spoken to him.

_Draco stood his ground and didn't move. "Let me help you." His voice was full of emotion._

_ Placing his fingers gently on Harry's neck to feel for a pulse, he leaned his head close to Harry's. "Don't move. I know you're alive. You've saved many lives and I'm sure you're bound to save more, but right now there's nothing you can do. Just trust me. Let me save you."_

The grey eyes seared into his soul, just as they had at the time the words were spoken. Harry snapped himself out of it before any more unwanted memories could assault him.

He had only been unaware for less than ten seconds, but when his eyes refocused on the real world around him, Lorraine was standing directly in front of him, her arms reaching out, unsure of whether to touch him, to try and bring him out of his trance.

He stepped back from her, almost stumbling over his feet. The piercing grey eyes still lingered in his line of vision. They followed him wherever he looked. He blinked frantically, but they would not disappear. "Leave me alone." He ordered, but his voice was not as strong as he thought, and Lorraine was no longer intimidated by the broken and haunted man who stood before her.

"I don't understand you, Dame." She called out softly to him as he retreated to the kitchen. She heard his bitter laugh carry through the open house. "The boys at the bar are starting to talk about you." She changed the topic. "None of them trust you. I think they're up to something. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Good." He emerged from the kitchen, another bottle in his hand. "They shouldn't trust me. You shouldn't trust me either. It's more trouble than it's worth." The second half of her comment seemed to register with Harry. "You're worried about me getting hurt?" He gestured to the gun that sat on his armchair. "I wouldn't worry about me. Look at me, I've been hurt before. The good thing about getting hurt is that you always come out stronger." He laughed, taking a sip from the bottle. "Don't trust me. Nothing good has ever come out of anybody trusting me. Be sure to tell the boys too. Now, I think it's about time you left, don't you."

The intimidating fire was returning to Harry's eyes and Lorraine could not think of any reason to convince herself to stay. She nodded and turned, heading for the door quickly and silently.

"Oh, and Lorri," she looked back over at her shoulder at Harry as he spoke, "don't ever come here again without my permission. You were very lucky tonight. Next time, I won't hesitate."

"H-hesitate? Hesitate to what, kill me?" She joked, not knowing why she said it, only trying to break the tension. Harry's face stayed dead-pan serious.

Lorraine knew that he was right. She had been very lucky to come away from this meeting completely unscathed. She nodded and hurried out, desperate to separate herself from the situation.

Lorraine fought to hold back the sobs as she practically ran down the street away from Damien's house. She thought his name fitting now, as she glanced a peek at his true nature. All the new information about the young man still did not dissuade her from pitying him. He needed help, serious help. He was obviously suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress and was entirely unwilling to address it. She had seen the way he pushed back his memories, she was sure that's what he had been doing. This young boy had seen more in his short lifetime than most ever would in their entire lives.

She resolved to keep the events of this night to herself, nobody else could ever know. She would do anything she could to help him, even keeping the knowledge of his dangerous, violent tendencies away from the rest of the town. She would still support him. She would see him set right.

Harry came upon a stroke of luck that night. He had once again drank himself into unconsciousness after Lorraine had left him. His mind grew fuzzy as he wandered around the house, outbursts of rage springing out of him. Chairs were kicked, tables overturned, and somewhere deep down inside, this satisfied him, made him at least feel something. He craved so badly to feel, but he couldn't, he had to remain numb, he wouldn't be able to survive any other way.

He wasn't strong enough to feel. Not anymore.

His dreams shifted that night for the first time in weeks, and he could almost call them relaxing, a refreshing change from the constant visions of Draco, the dreams of their encounter. The taste of his lips, the feel of his hard body pressed up against his own. He was spared this torture tonight, replaced instead by the familiar dead faces of all those he had lost. Scenes replaying in his mind of their deaths, the battles leading to their demise.

It was a million times better than seeing Draco. He would take this. With these dreams there was no possibility of a future, no chance to make a choice that would change their lives, or his.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

Harry lived his next days in a trance. He had hoped that by coming here that his visions and memories would decrease, allowing him to finally feel human once again. The exact opposite had happened. His visions of Voldemort grew ever stronger and crueler. It was as though Voldemort were trying to torture him, as if he knew their connection, which Harry was still certain he did not.

He had been coping before. He had found a way to live in this world without anybody by his side, especially Draco. He had been doing just fine until that night at the manor. Ever since that night, Harry's memories, his feelings for the blond man had been creeping up on him, barraging him with their intensity at the most inopportune moments. He couldn't figure out how to push them back anymore, the harder he tried, the harder they pushed back.

He went to work, went to the bar, went home. There was nothing in between, it was that simple. Even Lorraine was keeping her distance from him now. He smirked bitterly. Good. Better for her to be disappointed now rather than later.

There was no logical reason for him to still be conscious. He barely ate, he never slept and he drank like a man dying of thirst. He sat in front of his television, staring blankly at the salt and pepper screen, his cable had been disconnected days ago. The black and white fuzz gave him some comfort, the white noise drowning out some of his milder thoughts. Of course it didn't keep away the ones he was trying to get rid of, but nothing would.

He picked up the long hunting knife that sat on the table and twirled it absently between his fingers, rotating the handle end as he held the point to the index finger of his other hand. He didn't flinch, or even seem to notice, when the tip bit into his finger and small drops of blood began to seep out of his finger.

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had been so injury free. It had been weeks since his last major wound had healed. And what he found, was that he had taken some pleasure out of being wounded. It had given him the real, tangible feeling that he was alive. He could feel like he was surviving.

His eyes travelled to the knife in his hands and locked on to it's shiny, silver blade. He saw the blood flowing from his finger, already beginning to clot. He could feel the tingle in the tip of his finger where his nerves were trying to send signals of pain to his brain, only his brain would not receive them. Harry laughed. No pain. What he wouldn't give to feel pain right now.

He gripped the handle of the knife tightly in his hand, his mind slowly pondering his own options. Flickering light from the fire in the fireplace threw light bouncing off the knife and onto Harry's face, clouding it in shadow.

He extended the arm which didn't hold the knife and clenched his fist hard, the veins popping out of his forearm. He moved the knife so the cold, metal blade was pressed against the veins, the steel making an indent in his skin. Only a little more pressure and the skin would break, and he would feel.

His hand gripped tighter around the handle, prepared to give it just a tad more force, when those familiar grey eyes forced themselves into his line of vision, breaking his stupor.

Harry shot up from his seat, kicking the coffee table to the floor and throwing the knife harshly to the ground. "Fuck!" He scrubbed his hands across his face and through his hair, brushing away the wetness that had settled around his eyes. He hadn't realized he was crying.

He had to get out of there. He couldn't stay in this room, not anymore, not tonight.

His body swayed and his vision blurred as he staggered across the room, picking up a leather jacket and putting it on. He stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The night was bitterly cold. There would be snow in the next few weeks. Harry's breath clouded out in front of him, as white as a snowdrift. He didn't feel the cold. Freezing rain fell, on the verge of slush, soaking him in minutes. He slowly walked around the town, not paying any attention to anything around him.

What caught his attention was not the flickering light, or the change in temperature, or even the sirens that blared past him. What Harry noticed first was the sound, the high pitched cracking that could only belong to a building engulfed in flames.

His senses seemed to return to him in that instant, the hyper-awareness almost causing him to vomit. The burning building had awakened something in him, something he'd been trying to claw out of the depths for weeks.

He jogged up to the perimeter that the fire department had set up as they set up their trucks, attaching the hoses to fire hydrants. The house was completely consumed. Neighbours stood huddled on the street, blankets wrapped tightly around them. They were all supporting one another. One woman stood apart from the others, her hand to her mouth in shock, panic stricken across her face. This was her home.

"Please!" She screamed towards the firemen. "Please, my daughter's still inside!"

One of the firemen went to her side to calm her. It seemed they had already spoken about this. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, it's just too dangerous. The entire structure is engulfed. There is no way for us to get in. The whole building could collapse at any second."

A piercing scream resonated from inside the building, and the mother gave a cry of equal despair, collapsing to her knees on the hard, wet pavement.

The sound of the scream triggered something in Harry. The world around him shifted, he was being thrown into one of his memories.

_ His eyes travelled around the room methodically, making absolutely sure there was nothing to catch him off guard. Off in the far corner, his gaze locked onto a set of icy blue eyes belonging to a blonde little girl. She was wailing in terror._

_ Nobody in the room seemed to be paying her any attention, all eyes were locked on him. 'This is your one chance!' Harry thought to himself. 'Ignore her! He's standing right in front of you! This is the man who ruined your life!'_

He pulled himself out. No! He was not there anymore!

The fire glowed bright in his eyes, and without thought or explanation, he vaulted himself over the barricade and sprinted towards the house, drop-kicking the door as he approached it.

He covered his face as the heat and smoke trapped behind the door rushed forwards to meet him with the introduction of fresh air. He could hear the firemen hollering at him, but he did not pause, he did not stop. He pushed forwards into the burning building, unsure of any reason why.

The flames licked up all around him, grazing his skin once or twice.

_Hot, orange and yellow flames licked out from the heavy tapestries and oil paintings that lined the stone and wood panelled walls. Everything was on fire. Paintings wailed as their frames were engulfed, there was nowhere for them to go._

"No!" Harry actually shouted out loud, grasping his forehead. Memories, visions of the night at Malfoy Manor assaulted him, and he was quickly unable to separate the past from reality. The two scenes melded together, he didn't know which landscape was true, which route to follow.

He turned a corner and stood in front of a staircase, which had yet to be touched by the flames. the air was choking around him and he cast a quick bubble head charm on himself, but it wouldn't last for long, the oxygen wouldn't last.

The two staircases merged together in front of him and he bounded up, taking two steps at a time.

Voices assaulted him from all around. The cackle of Voldemort rose highest above them all, distracting Harry, haunting him.

"You're not here!" Harry called out, his voice cracking as he yelled at nothing, his voice barely carrying over the crackle of the flames.

He heard a scream rise above all other sounds, but couldn't tell whether it was from his memory or if it was coming from inside the house.

He stumbled around, desperate to find the answer.

The scream pierced through the air again, louder this time, closer. It was coming from inside the house.

He raced down the hallway towards the sound of the scream. The ceiling was starting to fall apart over his head, chunks of burning drywall and blown insulation falling all around him. Bits of the floor cracked and fell out from underneath him as he stepped on it.

He struggled to right himself as his leg fell down a hole in the floor. He swore he heard something snap, but couldn't feel any pain. He surged ahead.

He opened the door to the only shut room in the house and closed it again once he entered. This room, so far, was untouched, but not for long, the fire was reaching its crisis.

This room had to be the source of the screams, but at first Harry didn't see anyone. It was dark in this room, no outside light entered.

Something shifted in the corner and Harry caught sight of a teenage girl, huddled in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her head snapped up at the sound of him entering the room. She looked at him in shock.

"Help me!" she cried.

Harry lunged towards her and seconds later part of the roof collapsed behind him, blocking their only exit save for the window. Harry crouched down beside her.

"Are you all right?" he practically yelled above the deafening roar of the flames.

She nodded her head in response.

"We have to go out the window. Do you trust me?"

Again she nodded, too scared to respond with words.

"Put your arms around my neck and you legs around my waist. I need to keep my hands free."

Though 17 years old, it was a good thing this girl was small compared to Harry, or else the situation would have been a lot more difficult.

Realizing that there was nothing to lose, Harry shattered the window with a spell. This whole situation was turning out to be frighteningly similar to his previous fire-rescue encounter. Seeing nothing outside the window to take hold on, Harry had no choice, he had to jump. "Hold on tight and just trust me."

Without waiting for a response, Harry flung the both of them out the window. Fortunately, the bedroom was at the front of the house and the ground below was covered in grass. The yard was also slightly raised, making it a little closer to the ground.

The group of people watching from below gasped in fright as the two figures burst out the window.

Harry pulled the girl as close to him as he could and tucked his shoulder under him, preparing to roll to his feet as soon as he hit the ground. They both hit with a resounding thunk. The frozen ground had been harder than Harry had anticipated and the impact winded him. The girl was unharmed, though it took her a few seconds to register what had just happened, before getting up.

She clambered to her feet and almost instantly went to her knees again as she realized that her rescuer was not moving.

_It was dark. Harry sat up and looked around. There was nothing. Just black, and yet he could see the hand he held up in front of his face. No source of light, but he could see. The smell of smoke filled his senses, and there was a soft murmur of voices in the background, though he could not tell what they were saying or who they were. All of a sudden, a figure appeared before him. As if a bright light was shining from behind him, Harry could only see the silhouette of this person. "Wake up Harry." The figure said._

_ "Who's there?" Harry asked shakily._

_ "You have to wake up."_

_ That voice…. There was something about it…. Something Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. Harry felt himself being tugged back to reality._

_ "Who are you?!" Harry demanded._

_ The figure extended his graceful arm and placed his hand on Harry's chest. Harry could still not see who it was._

_ "I'm in here." The figure said softly._

_ The tug of reality pulled even harder on Harry. He didn't want to leave. Who was this person?_

_ "Wake up, Harry." The figure pushed Harry gently and he felt himself drifting away from him._

_ The figure turned away and the last thing Harry saw before he awoke, was a startling shimmer of stormy grey eyes. "Come home..."_

_ "Draco…." Harry whispered._

Harry's eyes sprung open and he sat up with a jolt. He felt a hand on his shoulder trying to push him back down.

"Don't move too fast, Damien, you had quite a fall."

Harry looked up at who was speaking to him and saw a very worried, and yet very relieved, Lorri. He could see dingy white walls behind her that immediately reminded him of the time he had spent in the Hogwarts infirmary.

"Whe… where am I?" Harry asked groggily.

"The hospital, hun. You fractured your ankle when you fell."

Harry looked around and confirmed that he was, indeed, in a hospital. He was lost in thought when he realized that Lorri had said something.

"Sorry, what did you say?" He lay back down flat, he had become dizzy. He draped his arm over his eyes.

"Who is he?" Lorri asked again, waiting expectantly for an answer to a question that Harry did not understand.

"What? Who is who?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Draco. You said his name just before you woke up."

Harry's eyes went wide. He'd said Draco's name out loud? "I don't know what you're talking about, Lorraine? I didn't say anyone's name." Harry averted his eyes from hers. He knew she would get her answer if she continued to pester him. His latest vision of Draco had him feeling like he didn't want to fight anymore, couldn't handle the lies anymore.

Lorri shook her head. "Never mind. I guess I was just hearing things." She paused. "The girl's fine, you know. Alexis, the one you saved."

Lorri had expected Harry to brighten at this news, but it only managed to darken his mood.

_'Great.'_ Harry thought darkly. _'Like I needed something else to make me an outcast here. I wonder how fast it'll take the town to change their tune about me. Typical. Stupid fucking hero complex, why couldn't I have just-'_

Lorri did not know what to say. The man in front of her didn't seem to care. He seemed to be off in a world all his own.

"I'll leave you alone for a while, hun, you seem to need to think about some things." She patted his shoulder and stood.

She was right. He did.

Harry was released from hospital the next day, without crutches thanks to his insistence that it was nothing and he'd had a lot worse, and went straight home.

Left at home to recover his fractured ankle, Harry became bored insanely quickly and had taken to practising his sword forms in his living room.

Clad in only his dragon-hide pants, sweat beading down his chest, Harry was pushing himself harder than he ever had. It kept his thoughts away. For weeks he had been clawing through his mind, desperate to feel anything. Since he had seen Draco in his dreams last night, something had awakened in him and he was feeling too much, it was overwhelming him.

His technique was flawless, and so was his body, as was apparent to Alexis as she walked into his house completely unannounced. She stood, stunned, for a moment as she gazed at the man in front of her. He moved so gracefully with each swing of the blade, yet with deadly precision enough to turn her blood cold. Halfway through his next swing, Harry spoke. "Well, are you just going to stand there all day?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes.

Alexis was caught off guard. How had he known she was here? He had been facing away from her and she was sure she hadn't made a sound.

"I… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to intrude… I just wanted to…"

Harry leaned the sword up against the wall next to him and faced the startled girl. He pulled on a black t-shirt, covering the scars she had taken to staring at, and made his way to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of something from a glass bottle, washing down a little white pill he had received from the hospital for the pain in his ankle. "You just wanted to….?" Harry prompted her to finish.

"Oh… I just wanted to thank you for saving me. I don't know how to thank you enough." Alexis was blushing furiously, trying not to look like a fool.

"Don't. I don't need your thanks." Harry said emotionlessly.

"Isn't your ankle broken? How come you're walking on it? Didn't you have a cast? I saw you when you were still unconscious. By the time I went back you were-"

"It's fine." He growled at her. Her incessant talking was giving him a headache and he took another sip from his glass.

Alexis stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

"Well, you said your thanks. Don't you think you should leave now?"

Alexis' face contorted in anger. "You are the rudest person I've ever met in my entire life! I came over here to thank you for saving my life, and you throw it in my face as if it was selfish of me that you came and saved me."

"Actually, you came over here unannounced, let yourself in without my permission, interrupted my training and tried to thank me for saving you from a situation that you very well could have gotten yourself out of. Now, I would appreciate it if you left my house!"

"Why couldn't you have just let me die then! If other lives mean so little to you, why did it matter to you that I be saved? Why come to save me if you didn't care? I should have died! That's why I set the fire in the first place. Nobody cared. Just like you, nobody cared if I lived or died." Harry's face went blank, the comment on the tip of his tongue lost forever. "I was ready to die in there. But then you showed up. I was so happy in that instant because I thought that somebody might actually care what happens to me for once. I'm not thanking you for saving me from the fire. I'm thanking you for saving me from myself."

Harry was at a loss for words.

"You know how I feel, don't you… like you're obligated to the world to be something you aren't. To pretend you're happy, when really, you're only living to survive." A single tear rolled down Alexis' cheek. "That's why you left London, isn't it? Everyone talks about you! I've heard the rumours, but I never-" she asked quietly.

Harry's face turned dark. "Get out." He growled. Alexis didn't move. "I said get out!" he screamed and threw the glass he was holding. It smashed on the wall mere feet away from where the now terrified girl was standing. She turned and bolted out of the kitchen and ran as fast as she could out of the house.

Harry sank into a kitchen chair as soon as the terrified teen was out of sight, and for the first time since he last saw Draco, he cried, really, truly cried.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

Harry had been assaulted with visions from Voldemort that night as well, new visions of his latest scheme. Voldemort was back up to full power after their last encounter and he was planning his most aggressive attack yet. It would happen soon. He would be unopposed.

Guilt ripped through Harry. He hadn't felt guilt in a very long time, he forgot how heart wrenching and painful it was. He should be there, doing something. But he'd made his choice, this was where he belonged now, he would not change his mind again.

He only knew one way to rid himself of the guilt, one way to make himself feel something other than the excruciating loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him. His eyes locked on the Sword of Gryffindor where it leaned against the wall. He strode over to it and picked it up, examining the blade, unable to tear his eyes away from the gleaming steel. The same expression crossed his face as when he had last picked up his knives. There was a way to make this all go away.

Hours later he sat in his usual secluded seat at the bar. He wore a long sleeved shirt, not something he normally did, to cover up his now wounded arms. He had never been drunker in his life, and nobody in the bar had the heart to stop him. They studied the expression of utter hopelessness and despair on his face and just let him be.

Lorraine watched him from afar, keeping an eye on the man she wanted so badly to help. She finally went to him when he swayed slightly in his seat and lowered his head to the surface of the bar, his hand clutched tightly to his forehead. Poor kid must have the spins right about now. As she drew closer to him, she could hear him mumbling under his breath, though she had no idea what he was saying. It almost seemed as if he were hissing out words every once in a while.

Someone else was watching Harry and his interaction with Lorraine. Alexis, the teenage girl that Harry had saved, sat in a far corner of the room, her gaze fixed on the mysterious man who had saved her life. She was determined to uncover his secret, his reason for leaving London, what stood behind his depression that was so similar to hers.

Lorraine touched Harry's shoulder but he did not seem to register her touch. "Come one Damien," she whispered lowly in his ear, "I think you've had enough, it's time to go home." Harry didn't budge, he kept mumbling under his breath. "Damien, please, this isn't healthy." She pleaded with him.

Harry raised his head from the table, holding his torso up with his arms locked straight on the table. "You talking to me?" He swivelled his head towards her, his red rimmed eyes connecting with hers.

"Yes, Damien, come on now, this is getting ridiculous."

"Look, sweetheart," Harry slurred, "I don't know who this 'Damien' is that you keep talking about. My name's Harry." He pointed at himself. "Harry Potter."

Lorraine sighed. "Damien, you're drunk, you don't know what you're-"

Harry stood from the seat with such force he knocked it to the ground and almost sent Lorraine down with it. An unexplainable energy crackled around Harry and it made everyone in the bar unconsciously take a step back. Dark fire filled Harry's eyes and everyone stood frozen in terror. "Don't any of you fucking get it! I'm not worth it! Stay the fuck away from me! I'm not the good guy here! Just because I saved one fucking girl doesn't mean I'm some hero to be worshipped! I have done nothing in my life to be proud of!I can't even-" Harry clenched his fists as his voice cracked. "Fuck!" He shoved a nearby table over, kicking the chairs that surrounded it, sending them all to the floor. He screamed once loudly in frustration and stormed out of the bar, leaving some of his crackling aura behind him.

Silence filled the bar, nobody wanted to break it.

Alexis watched him leave, tears filling her eyes. She understood his words better than anyone else in the room. She had to follow him. She had to tell him that he wasn't alone, she knew how he felt.

She immediately stood and left the bar, intending to follow Harry to wherever he had gone, but by the time she had put on her thick jacket and actually left the building, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

She pulled the jacket tighter as the wind bit into her skin and the rain stung her face. She had no idea where he would have gone, she hadn't actually been aware of him by anything but rumour until the last few days. She knew nothing about him. So she checked the first logical place she could think of, his house. She hesitated, remembering her first encounter with Harry there. As she thought of his name in her head she was perplexed as to why he would have changed his name. She could understand it if he was well known, but nobody here had ever heard of anyone called Harry Potter. Why would he change it?

The door to his house stood slightly ajar and she didn't know whether to take that as a sign that he was there. She pushed her way in silently, horrified to find it completely trashed. There were clothes and empty bottles everywhere. All the furniture was overturned. A large sword lay on the coffee table, the same she had seen him using the other day. She wandered towards it, curious, her hand outstretched, ready to touch it. She recoiled her hand though as she got close enough to see that there was a stain of blood on the blade. What had he done?

She hurriedly turned around and left the house. She was more anxious now than ever. Had this man hurt someone? More importantly, had he hurt himself? She almost laughed at her concern for him, drawing the parallels of how people had always been so worried about her for the same reason. She had to find him.

She wandered the city for almost an hour, her anxiety growing every second. It finally occurred to her that he probably worked at the harbour and she changed directions, heading towards the dark, stormy water.

Once reaching the harbour, she was overwhelmed by all the boats there, he could be hiding anywhere. She turned her head back and forth, squinting through the rain, trying to pick out any human shape. The faint light from the street lamps on the docks did not make it very easy.

She wandered down the docks, walking carefully on the rain slicked boards. She stopped in front of a boat aptly named 'Serenity.' The irony of the name made her smile, but for some reason she was drawn to it. She boarded this boat, an invisible force pulling her forwards. On the fore deck of the ship, right up at the bow, she spotted Harry. He was sitting, unblinking, at the water, his feet dangled off the edge of the boat. His shirt was completely soaked through and he was shivering.

Alexis made her way to him cautiously, not wanting to startle him. As she got closer, she realized that he was mumbling to himself. She knelt down beside him and it seemed as though he was still not aware of her presence. She reached out her hand towards him but did not touch him, he seemed to be in a trance. She sat on the cold metal deck beside him, silently. She was just close enough that she could hear what he was saying.

"From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were; I have not seen

As others saw; I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then- in my childhood, in the dawn

Of a most stormy life- was drawn

From every depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, or the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that round me rolled

In its autumn tint of gold,

From the lightning in the sky

As it passed me flying by,

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view."

_(Alone, Edgar Allen Poe)_

Harry stared off into the night, his eyes unfocused, his body still shaking. He had stopped mumbling. It was hard to tell, because of the rain dripping off his body, but she could swear there were tears rolling down his face. Something had shifted in him. Instead of looking harsh and cold, Harry simply looked empty, tired and broken.

She stood and reached her hand out to him. "Harry..." She called softly, opting to use his real name. His dead, glazed eyes looked around and connected with hers, a small smile peeking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Harry..." He heard his name being called softly from behind him. He swivelled his head and looked up at where the sound was coming from. A figure stood there. His vision was blurred and it was hard for him to see. The person who stood there was desperately pale, a delicate face framed with soft blond hair. He smiled up at the blond figure. Draco was here.

A hand was extended before him and he took it, lifting himself off the ground. Draco's hand was just as soft and warm as he remembered. He pulled back on the hand pulling him forwards. "What are you doing here?" He asked breathlessly.

Alexis was incredibly confused. The man standing before her held nothing of the personality of the man from the bar. His features had softened, longing and emotion on his face. It never crossed her to think that he might think she was someone else. His eyes were still hazy, he was not seeing the real world.

"What do you mean Harry?" Her brows drew together. "I came to make sure you were okay. You ran out into the rain and-"

Harry stepped forwards, cupping both sides of her face in his hands. He didn't seem to notice that 'Draco' was much shorter than he was, or that 'his' voice was much more feminine. He was lost in his own world. "Shh. I'm sorry, you don't need to explain. I'm so glad you're here." He kissed her forehead and stepped back, reclaiming her hand in his. "Come on, I'll take you back to my place. You can warm up, it's freezing out here."

Alexis followed him unquestioningly. The only thing she found odd about the situation was that he had changed his tune so quickly, but then again, so had she, after the fire. She believed him capable of that change as well. Her face flushed red as he kissed her forehead. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since the night of the fire.

Harry walked quickly, pulling her behind him, his hand gripped tightly around hers. He kept glancing back at her, that same silly smile on his face, the same glassy look in his eyes.

They arrived at Harry's house quickly and entered. He let her enter the house first and lingered behind her, his hands never too far from her body. He slipped her coat off her shoulders slowly and dropped it on the floor by the door. His hand on the small of her back guided her in the rest of the way.

He glanced briefly around the living room before returning his gaze to Alexis. Even in the full light his eyes could not distinguish between the 17 year old blonde girl in front of him, and the blond man that frequented his dreams. "I'm sorry it's such a sty in here. I've been a real mess without you here." His voice was honest and slightly bashful.

He still stood behind her and rubbed his hands down her upper arms. She had her arms wrapped around her own waist. She was cold and Harry was making her very uncomfortable.

"What do you mean, Harry? I saw you yesterday." She tried to pull away from him.

"I know it feels that way, Draco. I dream about you too. Every night. I can't seem to get rid of you." He chucked and wrapped his arms around Alexis' shoulders, kissing the side of her neck. She shivered.

Having seen Harry's violence just the previous day, Alexis did not want to test his reserve. She was beginning to think that he was having a waking hallucination. He thought she was someone else, this Draco person.

"Harry, I'm not who-"

"I know we're no good for each other, we never have been." He laughed again. He spun Alexis to face him and stared into her eyes. He only saw the stormy grey eyes, transposed in front of hers. He began to push her backwards towards the couch. His grip was tight on her arms and she couldn't think of any way to stop him. "I would have come back to you. I got closer to leaving this place every day. I couldn't live without you." The back of Alexis' knees hit the couch and with a gentle shove from Harry, she fell backwards on it.

He pushed his dripping hair back from his face and stared down at her. She needed to get his attention. He peeled his sopping shirt off and tossed it to the floor beside them.

He climbed on top of her, straddling her waist, his hands holding her hands above her head. She tried to squirm out from under him, but he had her pinned tightly. She would never be able to overpower him. "Harry, stop." She said firmly. "I'm not who you think I am, I'm-"

Harry shifted his grip and managed to hold both her arms with one hand. His other hand pressed over her mouth, silencing her gently. "I don't care, Draco. I love you." He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, gently bringing their lips together.

"No!" She squirmed under his body, but it only seemed to encourage him.

"We have so much lost time to make up for, Draco. Tonight, you belong to me." He moved the kisses down her neck, moving the collar of her shirt so he could access her collar bones, nipping lightly with his teeth.

"Stop it! Harry!" She cried frantically, but couldn't do anything to stop him. He was too heavy. "Snap out of it! I'm not Draco! I'm Alexis, the girl you saved from the fire! Please, let me go!" Her voice cracked as she pleaded with him.

Harry was not aware of anything going on around him. He continued forcing himself upon her. His hand moved lower, lifting up the hem of her shirt and caressing the soft skin of her belly. He moved his hand to his own pants, undoing the fly.

Having exhausted all her other options, Alexis felt she had no other choice. Still squirming under the raven haired man, she took a deep breath and screamed louder than she ever had before.

The scream pierced through Harry like a hot dagger. He immediately stopped his movements and she continued to scream. He snapped his gaze to meet hers, the grey eyes shifting in and out of focus. They disappeared, leaving only the frightened blue eyes of a terrified teenage girl.

The door of his house burst open, four large men running in. They had obviously heard the scream and come running.

Harry looked up at the door and looked back down at the young girl beneath him. "Fuck." He mumbled under his breath. The sensitivity and emotion retreated to the back of his mind and was replaced by his cool mask.

The men each held a weapon in their hand, they had been expecting a confrontation. They had been looking for him. He slowly stood from the couch, turning to face the men. "Get the fuck away from her, Evans!" The man Harry recognized as Keith shouted.

Harry snorted bitterly. These men were no threat to him. His hand went to his hip, and upon contact, the silver magnum ay his side revealed itself. He pulled it slowly out of the holster and pointed it at the group.

All four men blinked in astonishment. None wanted to believe that they had just seen the gun appear out of thin air, but that was what just happened. They all took a step back.

Alexis sat up on the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. She had seen the gun appear as well, and her confused gaze travelled back and forth between the gun in Harry's hand and the holster at his waist which still held two large knives. They had not been there before, she was sure of it.

The expression on Harry's face was changing so rapidly that it was impossible to put a label on it. "Everyone just back off." Harry warned.

"That piece of tin even work, Damien." Keith taunted, motioning to Harry's gun. "Just let the girl go, and we won't be forced to do anything drastic." He grinned.

Harry's hand moved to his holster again, and without so much as a blink or a breath, one of the knives was pulled and flung out of Harry's hand and flying towards the arrogant man. The blade grazed his ear before sinking into the drywall behind him. Keith stood in shock, unable to move or speak. Harry strode up to him, their faces mere inches apart. His other hand was held straight out to the side, his gun still pointing at the rest of the group. "I've killed far too many truly evil people, Keith, to waste a knife on a blithering coward like you." Harry smirked and backed off. "Anyone else?" He stared down the other men, daring them to try anything. They all stood stock stiff. "Good."

Still holding the gun in front of him, Harry continued to back away. "Animate." He cooly spoke. He let go of the gun as be backed away, but it did not fall to the floor. It hung suspended in mid-air as though carried by invisible cables. The weapon twitched slightly, as though it were keeping an eye on the people it's master had tasked it to watch.

Harry turned away from the group and picked up his shirt from the floor, wrenching it over his head. He was fully aware that the men were staring at his scars in horror, still too terrified and perplexed by the floating, animated gun to move. He strode quickly towards his room, reaching out behind him.

A scraping sound came from near the group and they all turned to see the knife wiggling itself out of the wall. It flew straight into Harry's waiting hand, where he put it back in the holster forcefully. He disappeared into his room and the men visibly relaxed.

Alexis swivelled her gaze back and forth between the men and Harry and after a moment of indecision, hastily followed Harry into his room. He was scrambling around the room, clutching his forehead every now and again. He was pulling on what Alexis could only assume was leather clothing. The sword was now strapped to his hip as well, though she could not recall him picking it up from the coffee table.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble yet?" Harry spat at her as he noticed her lurking in the doorway. "What can you possibly want?" He pulled on his black trench coat and waited expectantly for her to answer. When she didn't say anything he continued, walking towards the door.

She stopped him by placing her hand on his chest. He stared blankly forwards, refusing to meet her gaze. "Stop." She whispered. "I just... I need to understand you. I need to know why you left your home, why your memories still haunt you."

"So would I." Harry snorted.

Alexis was getting frustrated, her brow furrowed. "I see so much of myself in you, that same pain that nobody else seems to understand. But in you, there's something deeper and darker... something broken and I-"

Harry slowly turned his head and connected his cold, green gaze with hers. The intensity of his stare shut her up. She tried to avert her eyes but he grabbed her chin in his hand and kept their eyes locked. "You want to understand me?!" She tried to turn her gaze away without turning her head. "Look at me!"

As soon as their eyes locked again, Alexis was flooded with images. The images were horrible and gruesome, visions of the worst and best memories of Harry's life. They bombarded her so quickly that it seemed impossible that she would understand any of it. She understood it all, every last image. They painted a terrifying story of a boy's lost childhood and his twisted way of trying to put it right again. She gasped, she could hardly catch her breath. Harry's grip loosened and his hand fell.

She didn't avert her gaze, she couldn't now. Such sadness filled her for the young man in front of her, charged with an impossible task. She understood now, what his eyes held hidden away, what she couldn't identify before. Harry's eyes held the cold, dark stare of death. He was the living embodiment of death, one who had experienced its cold grip one too many times.

"Go..." She whispered. "Do what you have to do... no, do what you feel is right..." Her breath hitched. "Good luck." She stepped back from him and brought her hand up to her mouth, gnawing on her fingernails to keep from bursting into tears.

Without a word, Harry brushed past her, his black cloak flowing out behind him like a deadly shadow. He snatched the gun from the air as he strode out of the house for the last time. The crowd of men was too petrified of the mysterious man walking past them to utter a single word.

He wandered out into the dark, wet street and was met by Lorri. She stared in awe at what her former charge had transformed into. Harry did not even acknowledge her as he seemingly glided past, his black armour blending into the night and the metal of the sword glinting in the streetlights.

Lorri watched, her hand covering her mouth as the black figure of death disappeared with a resounding 'crack'.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

Draco was miserable. He was pale, more than normal, his hair dishevelled. He sat at the kitchen table in his new home, in Harry's home. His head rested in his hands, his eyes red-rimmed and burning from yet another sleepless, emotional night.

He constantly touched the two pendants that hung around his neck, as if willing Harry back into existence with them. Right now he didn't even have the company of his sister to lift his spirits. After her initial recovery, Hermione had insisted on seeing the little girl. He couldn't pretend to understand why, but he didn't fight it, the situation seemed to be working, and it meant that Antigone didn't have to be around her mopey brother all the time. She would be with Hermione until late the next day, Teddy Lupin was visiting as well and the two children got along well. Having the children around seemed to help Hermione with her grief in any case.

Unable to sit at the table any longer, Draco got up and walked out of the house into the pouring rain, not even putting on a coat in the cold, fall rain. He apparated to a spot he had been frequenting. Ever since his dream of the ocean, he had been coming to this spot. It helped him feel closer to Harry somehow, though he had no idea where the other man was. The tumultuous ocean seemed to reflect his feelings perfectly.

He found a rock and sat himself down, slowly beginning to shiver in the bitter, damp ocean breeze. He once again grasped at the pendants on his chest, a surge of despair and emptiness flowing through them. He was too numb to find this odd. He felt those feelings so prevalently already that he barely noticed when they seemed to be coming from an outside source.

He was unsure of how much time had passed but knew he had to get back home, the sun was setting and he still had enough sense left to leave before he got to the point of hypothermia. He stood and stared out at the ocean one last time before turning away and closing his eyes. He apparated back home with a crack.

Immediately upon entering the house, he could feel that something was different, there was another aura present, one he hadn't felt in months, but one he would recognize anywhere. He shut the door behind him quickly, his eyes wide, water dripping off his hair. He hesitantly stepped forwards, surely he was imagining things, there was no way-

He turned the corner out of the hallway and the world stopped. There he was, sitting on the couch, his head bowed low. He clutched Antigone's green dragon tightly in his hands. "Harry..." Draco whispered, unaware if his voice came out in any more than a whisper. He was waiting for the dream to end, for this to turn out to be another nightmare.

Harry's head rose at the sound of his voice, his eyes red rimmed, his expression broken. But something was different. This wasn't an empty, vacant stare of one who had seen too much. This was a soul crying out for comfort, a broken soul in need of love. "I couldn't stay away from you..." He spoke softly, his voice full of emotion. "Not anymore. Not again."

Draco hesitantly stepped forward, still unwilling to believe what was before him. He knelt before Harry, taking the dragon from his grip and placing his hands gently on the sides of Harry's face. His face was rough from half a week's unshaven beard. "Is this real? Are you here?"

Harry put his hands on top of Draco's. "Only if you want me to be... Draco, I know I-"

Something clicked in Draco at the sound of his own name, something that screamed inside him that this was real. Harry was here. His grip tightened on Harry's face, pulling their faces close, resting his forehead on Harry's. "I don't care. I don't want you to ever fucking leave me again! Do you hear me!" Draco scolded, barely able to keep his voice steady as he stared into the emerald green eyes of the raven-haired boy.

Harry nodded his head slightly. "Okay." A small flicker of a smile flitted across Harry's face, and that was all the encouragement Draco needed. He closed the rest of the distance between their faces, lightly grazing Harry's lips with his own, as if to test if they were going to disappear.

Harry took a sharp intake of breath at the contact and closed his eyes, fighting back tears. It took a few moments but he regained his composure, taking a few deep breaths as their lips were only separated by millimetres.

Harry opened his eyes again, they were filled with a fiery desire. In one swift movement he stood, bringing Draco to his feet with him, crashing their lips together as if staying separated would mean the end of the world. Harry pulled Draco as close to him as he could manage, his hands buried in the fine hair at the base of Draco's neck.

Their lips parted and their hot tongues met, vying for dominance that neither was willing to concede. Draco snaked his hands up Harry's chest and under his trench coat, pushing the black fabric off Harry's shoulders and letting it slip to the ground. He kept his hands on Harry's shoulders and back, feeling the hard, rippling muscles that lay hidden underneath.

Both boys moaned as their bodies began to respond to each other. Their mouths and hands working frantically to gain as much contact as they could.

Draco's hands moved down to the buckle that held Harry's holster on, the sword and gun still attached to his hip. He pulled away from Harry slightly as he did so, looking down between them. He stared sadly at the trio of weapons as he put them aside and turned back to Harry. "You're safe with me, Harry. At least for tonight, everything is as it should be." He moved to lift up the hem of Harry's shirt.

Harry's hands reached out to stop him, his hands resting gently on Draco's, cradling them. He brought their entwined hands up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the palm of Draco's hands. Draco tried to speak, but Harry brought a finger to his lips and shook his head, motioning him to be silent.

Still holding Draco's hands, Harry began to back up, heading for his bedroom. Draco smiled bashfully and followed, never breaking eye contact with his partner. Once in the bedroom, Draco kicked the door shut behind them, even though there was no one else in the house. He felt like this was a very private moment between himself and Harry, and they needed to be as secluded as possible.

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Harry changed directions, pushing Draco back against it. There wasn't much light in the room, only what faint moonlight managed to trickle in now that the rain had stopped and the clouds were parting. It was enough.

Harry traced his fingers down the side of Draco's face, making him shiver at the light touch. Draco intercepted his hand on its way down, returning the gesture and lightly kissing each one of Harry's fingers.

Harry leaned in again, snaking his hand around the back of Draco's neck, pulling them together once again. The kiss started out gentle, but the boys bodies were beginning to act of their own accord and the kiss quickly grew heated and desperate. Hands pushed, grabbed and caressed each other's bodies, eager for more contact. Harry slipped his hands under the hem of Draco's still wet shirt, his warm fingers coming in contact with his still slightly cool skin. The soft flesh urged Harry forwards and he tugged the shirt roughly upwards, forcing their lips to break contact as the shirt was pulled off.

They were connected once again, Draco's hand still caught in the sleeve of his shirt and the boys shared a chuckle in the moment it took to free him.

The chuckle stopped as their eyes connected with fierce intensity, neither able to avert their gaze. Harry caught sight of the pendants around Draco's neck and reached out to touch the Italian Horn, his fingers barely grazing the surface. "It kept you safe." He hooked his fingers through the chain and pulled, leading Draco backwards. He spun them around so Draco's back was towards the bed and continued to push him back until the back of his knees contacted the mattress.

They stopped and stared at each other again, knowing there was no turning back now. There was no stopping this, but both were hesitant to make the first move, not wanting to ruin the moment. Finally, Draco reached forwards and tugged on the hem of Harry's shirt, lifting it just enough to see the hard abs that lay underneath.

Harry moved back from Draco just enough to swiftly pull off his shirt, tossing it on the floor beside them.

Draco took in the sight before him, so different than the last time he had seen him like this, in Italy. Beautiful, yet scarred. He lowered his head, his slowly drying fringe brushing against Harry's chest. His lips touched one of the scars and he kissed his way down it's length, sucking on the raised white flesh, making Harry moan.

Harry's breathing hitched and became faster. He became frantic suddenly, the slow pace was not enough for him. Putting his hands on Draco's shoulders he pushed him down hard onto the bed, standing between his legs that now hung off the end. He leaned down and captured Draco's lips with his own, no more hesitation or slow, sweetness present. All that was left was desperate need, something both boys felt deeply.

Remaining connected, Draco backed up on the bed so he was half-sitting up at the headboard, and Harry followed. The kiss broke, though they would still stay in contact for hours yet.

Wet, heated kisses made their way down Draco's chest and neck, making his heart beat wildly, his breathing fast and shallow. He tried to fumble with the button on Harry's pants, but he couldn't steady his hands. Harry's hands had made fast work of the closure on Draco's pants and was now tugging them off his hips, boxers and all.

The slightly cool air contacting the warmer parts of Draco's body made him gasp and automatically raise his hips to meet Harry's.

Harry smiled into Draco's stomach as he continued his kisses down. "No." Draco breathed, reaching down and pulling Harry back up to him, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. He managed to steady his hands enough to successfully undo Harry's pants, sliding them down his hips with his feet. "I want you. Now." His eyes smouldered into Harry's. "Please." He whispered into Harry's ear, sending shivers down the other boy's spine.

Harry's body responded immediately to Draco's pleading and he kicked his pants the rest of the way off. He lowered his body into position, whispering a charm to make them both ready. He kissed Draco's collarbone and moved, making them one. Draco's arms tightened around Harry shoulders as they moved together. Nothing else in the world mattered, nothing else existed in that moment for the two broken boys who only felt whole when they were together.

Later, both boys lay breathing heavy, Harry laying on Draco's chest, the rest of his body still positioned between Draco's legs. Harry placed gentle kisses on Draco's chest, while Draco rubbed soothing circles on Harry's back and kissed the top of his head.

"Draco..." Harry whispered, his voice cracking. This was the first either of them had really spoke since entering the room. Draco could feel wetness on his chest and knew that Harry was crying.

Draco hooked his arms under Harry's shoulders and pulled him up, so he was laying beside him. They faced each other, on their sides, their legs intertwined, their hands connected. Draco reached down and pulled the comforter up over top of them, they were beginning to cool down and the night was cold. He saw the hesitation on Harry's face. "Harry, this is me. Remember, you can tell me anything you like. I'm not going anywhere, I promise." He kissed his forehead.

"Draco..." He started again. "I love you so much." His voice was husky and low, ready to break. "I don't know what to do to make you realize how sorry I am to have left you, twice."

"Harry, don't, not now-"

"It has to be now, Draco!" Harry said sternly, but there wasn't much force behind the words. "There might not be any other time. I don't know what tomorrow's going to bring, I can't-" Harry breathed in deep and retracted those dark feelings. "I love you." He simply stated, a choked sob hidden in his voice. The tears were flowing freely down his face. "And I don't deserve you. I've done so many terrible things and I- oh God, I almost... that poor girl."

"What happened Harry? Where did you go?" Harry shook his head. He was shutting down. "Harry, don't do that, don't shut me out. Please, what happened?" He pleaded softly.

"I... I was so out of it over there, I wasn't aware of anything and... I thought she was you and I almost-" He couldn't choke out the words, but Draco caught the drift and pulled Harry closer to him, cradling him against his chest. "I had to come back when I realized, I couldn't stay away any more. I can't live without you."

Draco whispered soothing words in his ear, trying to get him to calm down. There still seemed to be something on his mind. "What is it, Harry? Don't keep it bottled up inside, I'm here, you don't have to do that anymore. You never have to worry about scaring me away, I've seen just as many fucked up things as you have, I'm just as broken and screwed up as you are." He made it sound like a joke, even though it was dead serious, and both boys knew it.

Harry knew Draco was right, there was no sense hiding anything, not now. "I don't know how to kill Him." Draco knew he was referring to Voldemort. "I don't know what else to do. I've destroyed all the horcruxes, there should be nothing else standing in the way of me killing him and yet, he still won't die. This is my task, only I can do it, I have to do it, and I just can't."

"Harry, you've done so much for this world, and it's taken so much away from you in turn. Don't you think it's enough? You don't have to do this. We could go away together, somewhere nobody would ever find us."

Harry was shaking his head before Draco was even done his statement. "No. He'll never let it be. He's still searching for me, every hour of every day. While he still lives, I can not be at peace. The visions... I can't take much more of them. I think they're slowly killing me, driving me mad." Harry stopped Draco before he could say anything else. "And I do. I do have to do it. They need me, the world needs me to do this. Only, I'm not bitter about it anymore. I need to save them. This is not for me anymore, I'm too far gone, I can't be saved, I can't live in normal society. It's like it always should have been. This is for Ron, and my parents, and for Sirius, and for everyone else wronged by Voldemort. This is for them."

Draco was silent for a moment, playing with the pendants at his neck. "Harry, you know I will follow you anywhere. I love you. No matter what, I don't ever intend on being away from you ever again."

Harry nodded and both boys fell onto a sombre silence, interrupted occasionally by a deep, passionate kiss. They soon fell asleep, wrapped in each others comforting embrace.

Draco woke late the next morning, the sun was high in the sky on this uncommonly clear day. He had been woken by movement on the other side of the bed and rolled over, rubbing his eyes, to see Harry up and dressing in his black leathers. He bolted up straight. "Where are you going?" Draco panicked.

Harry turned to face him, a soft smile on his face. He strode forwards and kissed him softly. "I'm not leaving you, Draco, I promise. I was going to go see Hermione. I should probably go alone."

Draco smiled back and relaxed, but then his face fell. "My sister and Teddy Lupin are with her. She enjoys their company. She lost her baby that day."

Harry was shocked. "Hermione was pregnant?" His voice was barely above a whisper and tears formed in his eyes. He shook his head, clearing out the bad thoughts. His stony gaze returned to his face, an expression Draco now recognized as Harry repressing something he didn't want to think about.

Draco stood and wrapped his arms around Harry. "Good luck. Don't stay away too long. I don't think I can bear to be apart from you."

"Don't worry, I don't think I could stay away, even if I tried. I'll be back shortly." They shared a long, sweet kiss and Harry walked away, apparating before he got halfway across the living room.

Draco thought it was significant that Harry left his weapons behind. He was changing, and for the better.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

Dozens of memories flooded Harry as he walked up the drive of the home that rightfully belonged to him. He tried to not let these visions invade him, but his shell had cracked, he was having a hard time keeping them out.

He could feel that the wards to the house would still admit him, and without hesitation, he opened the front door and walked straight in. The familiar surroundings of number 12 Grimmauld Place overwhelmed him as he stood in the entrance hall for the first time in over five years. A quick survey of the room told him that nothing had changed.

He could hear the children playing up on the second floor and headed towards the stairs, assuming that Hermione would be up there with them. He made noise going up the stairs, the last thing he wanted was to startle her, his mere presence would be enough to do that.

She heard him coming up the stairs and called out, her voice weak and weary. "You're early Draco, I wasn't expecting you until-" She poked her head around the corner of the door frame and was rendered speechless.

She looked as tired as she sounded. Her face was pale, her eyes sunken, surrounded by dark circles. Her hair was a tangled mess, thrown up into a haphazard bun as the nape of her neck.

"Herrmione-" Harry stepped forwards.

"No." Hermione responded immediately, holding her hand out in front of her to indicate him to not come any closer. Her voice was shaky as she backed away from him. "Don't you come near me, Harry Potter."

"Hermione please, I need to talk to you. I have so many things-"

"No, Harry! I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear you! Just get out, please..." Her voice broke as she turned to go back in the play room with the children.

Harry stepped in front of her, gently pushing her back from the door. He glanced quickly inside the play room, taking in the shocked eyes of both children. He faltered, seeing Teddy, who looked so much like both of his parents, and filled Harry with grief and guilt that he had kept buried for so long. He forced himself to break his gaze away from Teddy's and shut the door to the room, keeping himself and Hermione in the hallway.

His gaze locked with Hermione, who seemed to understand that he was thinking about Remus, and gave him a moment and a look of sympathy. She shook her head, anger once again marring her face. "You can't do this, Harry. You can't just come back and-" Tears filled her eyes.

Harry grabbed her wrist as she turned and walked away, pulling her to face him. "Hermione, I am so sorry." He spoke lowly and honestly, staring intensely at her, hoping to convey his sincerity.

Hermione wrenched her wrist out of his grasp and laughed incredulously. "You're sorry?" Her mouth floundered open, at a loss for words. "Sorry? Harry, you murdered my husband!" She snapped, screaming and throwing herself at him.

Harry caught her by the wrists, but did not put much force behind holding her off, he didn't want to hurt her. He tried to pull her into a hug.

Hermione struggled against him and pushed away, but she could not break out of his loose grip this time, she was too weary. "Please, let me go!" She wailed, close to hysteria.

A memory hit Harry like a ton of bricks.

_"Snap out of it! I'm not Draco! I'm Alexis, the girl you saved from the fire! Please, let me go!" Her voice cracked as she pleaded with him._

_ Harry was not aware of anything going on around him. He continued forcing himself upon her. His hand moved lower, lifting up the hem of her shirt and caressing the soft skin of her belly. He moved his hand to his own pants, undoing the fly._

Harry snapped back to reality and practically threw Hermione's hands out of his. He stepped away, his back pressed up against a wall, and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, to try and block out the vision. He leaned his head forwards, his knees bent, his breathing shallow.

Hermione watched him silently, she could tell that he was in pain and only a miniscule part of her existed that cared. "Visions again?" She asked blankly, her curiosity overcoming her.

Harry uncovered his eyes, they were red-rimmed and full of unshed tears. "Always."

"You're not even trying anymore, are you, to keep them out? To keep Him out of your mind?" She sneered at him. Harry didn't respond and she took his silence as his confession. "You don't care, do you? If He wins? What difference does it make to you now?"

"How can you say that?!" Harry snapped, pulling himself away from the wall. "After all these years, after everything I've done, all the sacrifices I've-"

"You died, Harry! And you took the world with you..."

"But I'm not dead, Hermione, I'm here!"

She stared at him and scowled, shaking her head. "Harry Potter is dead. You are not him. He did die that day, and you are what was left behind. You're empty, and you're evil. You don't care for anything or anyone."

"That's not true, Hermione!" Harry shouted, coming to his own defence. His voice hitched and doubt entered his mind. Of all the people he had cared for and who had loved him over the years, the only person who entered his mind at that moment was Draco. "That's not true..." He said a second time, whispering. "I've lost more than-"

"Don't you think that you're the only person who's lost everything, Harry!" Hermione screamed, wrapping her arms around her abdomen. "I have nothing left!"

"I don't know how else to say that I'm sorry. I know you can never forgive me for-"

"How the fuck would I EVER forgive you for killing my family! I lost my husband and my child on the same day! You're just like Him!"

Hermione's accusation hit Harry hard, he stepped closer to her, reaching out for her. "No." He shook his head. "No, I'm not like-"

"You are! You don't care how many people die by your hand as long as you reach your end. You left your best friend dying on the street without a second thought! Didn't you see Ginny there, calling out for you? She never gave up on you, she waited for-" Hermione's eyes glazed over and she seemed to be staring at something in the distance, over Harry's shoulder.

Harry pulled his emotions to the back of his mind. This was becoming too much for him to handle, he shut down. "I don't love her. I never did."

"You can't mean that, Harry..." A soft voice called from behind him.

Harry turned to face the new voice, staring into the face of none other that Ginny Weasley. He did not falter with his words. "I do mean it." She seemed to not be hearing his words. She was not like Hermione, the fact that Harry had killed her brother seemed of no consequence to her in that moment. Right then, a surreal grin was plastered on her face. She couldn't believe she was seeing him up close.

"Harry..." She whispered and ran forwards, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest and burying her face in his shoulder.

Harry immediately shoved her backwards, causing her to stumble and nearly fall over. "Stop that."

Ginny looked at him curiously, her brows furrowed together, tears forming in her eyes.

"Don't you have any compassion?" Hermione spat from behind him but then chuckled bitterly. "What a stupid question. One look at you is enough to tell me that you don't, not anymore."

Harry didn't turn to face her, he kept his gaze trained on Ginny. She seemed to be coming unhinged. Her sadness turned quickly to anger and she gripped her wand tightly in her hand. Harry was on alert, his defensive instincts kicking in. When Harry did not say anything to come to his own defence, Ginny struck.

Harry moved before Ginny's arm was even fully extended, his years of training taking over. His mind would not process that this was not an enemy, he was only defending himself. A jet of red light shot out of the wand and hit him straight in the chest. The spell tingled slightly as it washed over him, his own magical aura dissipating it before it could do as it was intended. He continued forwards, grabbing Ginny by the neck and pinning her to the wall. His other hand snatched her wand, his hip and thigh pressed sideways against her lower body, preventing her from moving at all.

Fear shot through her eyes and she trembled. Harry held her there for a moment, Hermione desperately trying to pull him away. "Don't ever. do that. again." Harry growled and pushed back from her, shrugging Hermione off at the same time.

"You are just like Him..." Ginny croaked, rubbing her throat. "It's like there's part of him inside of you, like you've accepted your connection to him, like he controls you. You are not Harry Potter. You are not the boy I loved."

Ginny's statement echoed in Harry's mind, and like a light had been turned on in a dark room, illuminating that last piece of the puzzle that had been so elusive. He understood. It made sense.

He smiled, a wide, tooth bearing grin. And he laughed, hysterically.

Hermione and Ginny backed away from him, wary of his manic mood swings.

Harry's hand shot to the scar on his forehead and the moment his fingers brushed it, he knew. The last piece fell into place. The reason he could see what Voldemort saw, the reason they were forever connected, the reason that neither ever seemed to be able to kill the other.

He didn't know how or why, but there, in that moment, Harry was able to see the lost memory from the pensieve, as if it had been absorbed into him as it had dissipated into the air that night all those years ago.

_"Tell him what?"_

_ Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes._

_ "Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself on to the only living soul left in that collapsed building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to, and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die."_

_ "So the boy... the boy must die?" Asked Snape quite calmly._

_ "And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential."_

Harry continued to laugh as the scene faded away, his eyes focusing on the real world in front of him, at the two frightened women who stood before him. A set of blue, twinkling, half-moon spectacled eyes floated in front of him. They seemed to be smiling. "Thank you." Harry whispered into the air. How could he not have seen it before. It was too simple.

Now there was only one thing left to do.

"You're right." He spoke through his laughter. "I am like Him... He is a part of me. There's only one way to change that. I'll make this right, the way I should have five years ago."

Harry apparated away so suddenly and with such enthusiasm that a shockwave of magic radiated out from him, knocking Hermione and Ginny off their feet. Ginny, who had still never fully comprehended horcruxes, did not understand what had just happened. Hermione, however, had figured it out. She kneeled and covered her mouth, unsure of whether she was going to vomit. She understood. She knew what Harry was planning to do. She knew he wouldn't wait, either. "Oh, Harry." All her anger for him seemingly vanished, leaving behind only pity for the boy whom the world had abandoned.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

Harry entered his home, resolved about what he needed to do. Everything made sense. Well, almost everything. He stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of Draco puttering around in the kitchen, making a pot of tea. Suddenly the thought of dying didn't seem so appealing. He couldn't leave Draco, not again, not like this.

He approached Draco, who hadn't seemed to notice him yet, from behind. Harry snaked his arms around Draco's shoulders, pulling him back into his chest. He breathed in deeply, taking in Draco's scent, his nose buried in the hair at the nape of Draco's neck. "I love you." He stated plainly, irrevocable truth full in his voice.

Draco turned around, a wide smile on his face. He wrapped his arms around Harry and the two stood locked in an embrace. He could see a difference in Harry's face, his demeanour. There was a peace there, a relaxation that had not existed before. "What happened?" He asked softly, placing soft kisses down Harry's jaw line.

Harry stiffened and hesitated, but only for a moment. He could not keep it from Draco, no secrets existed between them now. "I know what I have to do. I understand my purpose now, how this all ends."

Draco felt the ominous undertone to Harry's words. "Harry-" He pulled away slightly to look his lover in the eye.

"Not now." Harry smiled down at him. "Right now, all I want is you. I will tell you, I promise, but right now is about us."

Harry leaned down and covered Draco's lips in a feather light kiss full of love. "I love you." He repeated again.

"Couldn't live without you." Draco responded, causing Harry to stiffen again. Draco knew he'd stumbled upon the root of Harry's change. He pulled back. He could see pain mixed in Harry's eyes. "Please tell me what happened, Harry." He pleaded, their lips almost touching.

Harry nodded so slightly that if they weren't touching, Draco wouldn't have noticed. He pulled away from Draco, cold air rushing between them as they separated. Lacing his fingers with Draco's, he led them to the bedroom. He shut the door behind them. Draco opened his mouth to speak but Harry covered his lips with his finger. Draco sighed and stopped, kissing Harry's finger gently.

Harry pulled his hand away and moved both hands down to undo the buttons on Draco's shirt. Draco cupped Harry's face in his hands, kissed his forehead and let him.

Once Draco was exposed, Harry removed his own shirt and took Draco's hand again, leading him to the bed. Harry lay on his back and pulled Draco down on top of him, wrapping his arms tightly around the blond. Draco's head rested on Harry's chest, his feathery blond hair tickling Harry's skin.

Both lay in silence for an indeterminate amount of time, both revelling in each others presence. Both could feel the importance of the moment. Both sensed a shift was coming, this may be the last moment they shared together.

Finally, Harry took a deep breath and broke the silence. "I know how to kill Voldemort." He whispered, his voice so low that if they hadn't been so close, so attuned to each other, Draco wouldn't have heard him.

Draco could feel Harry's heartbeat fluttering faster in his chest. Draco didn't want to speak, didn't want to ask how. Somehow, he felt he already knew what Harry was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it. He lightly kissed Harry's chest, that was his gesture for Harry to continue.

Harry's breathing hitched and shuddered, he was trying to speak, but couldn't find his voice. Draco propped himself up slightly so he could look into Harry's eyes, reassure him. Harry's eyes were dull and lifeless, but not like before. "Go on, Harry. I'm here." Draco brushed a stray tear off Harry's cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"I..." He started, but he shook his head. "No, I can't do it. I won't leave you, not again. I promised!"

Draco sat back against the headboard and pulled Harry tight against him, stroking his back, running his fingers through Harry's raven hair. "Say it, Harry." Draco's voice was tight. He knew what Harry was going to say.

"I... I need to let him kill me." Harry broke down and buried his face in Draco's shoulder, his hot tears streaming down Draco's skin. "It's the only way to beat him. But I can't. I won't leave you alone. I was alone for so long, I can't do the same thing to you, I can't-"

Draco pulled Harry's face up to meet his, capturing him in a searing kiss. They clung desperately to each other, clawing at any bit of exposed flesh they could reach. Hands flew between them, removing their pants.

Unexpectedly, Harry put on the brakes, pushing Draco away slightly. "No. I want this to last. Please. Slowly."

Draco responded by reconnecting their lips in a slow, deep, passionate kiss that contained every fear, every emotion both boys possessed. Their tears mingled together as they spent their last moments together.

Afterwards, they still clung to each other, neither wanting the perfect moment to end. Draco lay on his back with Harry nestled into his chest. "I meant what I said before, Harry, I can't live without you. I won't. You're not alone, Harry, and neither am I. Wherever you go, I'll go with you. If you die, then I die too. You and I have no place in this world without each other."

"Draco, you can't come with me." Harry pleaded. "If you die too then-"

"Then we can still be together. I would do anything to stay with you. There's nothing else for me in this world."

"What about your sister?" Harry whispered.

Draco was silent for a moment. "I wouldn't stay just to burden her with my sorrows. Besides, I think Granger needs her. They can offer each other some comfort. You can't convince me otherwise, Harry, you're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." He chuckled.

Harry clung to Draco. "Thank you." He paused. "I... it has to be soon. I have to do this before I don't-"

"I know. It's okay. We had our moment together. I couldn't ask for anything more." He kissed Harry's forehead. "How are you going to find him?" He asked.

"I'm not." Harry spoke, his eyes far away as he thought. "He's going to find me. Now that I know why we're connected, I think I can reverse the flow. I always assumed that only he could get into my mind, that only his thoughts could be transmitted to me. I was wrong. I can reach his mind just as easily. I've just never tried before."

Late afternoon sunlight beamed through the window, bathing Harry in what would be his last taste of sunlight. He breathed deeply and gazed out the window as the sun descended behind the horizon, leaving him in darkness. "Pull me back, if... if I can't do it myself." Draco nodded.

Harry closed his eyes and let his mind relax. He remembered their connection, the feeling of Voldemort's magic that coursed through him every time he had a vision. He sought out that feeling, searching deep inside himself until he felt it. He found the piece of Voldemort that resided inside himself. Now that he was aware of it, he didn't know how he never noticed it before. He pushed his way into this piece of soul and instantly felt himself being pulled along at lightning speed, his mind leaving his body and travelling along the path that led straight to Voldemort.

Harry's body relaxed into unconsciousness and Draco panicked for a moment until he realized that Harry was still breathing, still alive. His eyes were rolled up into the back of his head and he was mumbling under his breath, words that Draco didn't understand, hissing sounds. Harry's scar looked inflamed, it was bright red.

Harry felt as soon as he reached his destination. The aura that he felt faintly in his own mind now completely surrounded him. He was in Voldemort's mind. The emptiness of feeling, the blatant cruelty and violence, the constant fear for his own existence overwhelmed Harry, he felt like he was drowning in a sea of despair and unhappiness.

He pulled himself together. He was here for a purpose.

_"Hello Tom."_ He spoke into Voldemort's mind. Harry felt the Dark Lord's mind twitch as he tried for figure out what was going on._ "Don't tell me you don't know who this is."_ Harry taunted. _"The tables have turned, Tom. It's my turn now."_ Harry could feel that Voldemort wanted to respond, but he didn't understand the connection, he didn't know how. Harry laughed and he was sure Voldemort could hear it._ "Meet me where this should have ended Tom. Go back there, to Hogwarts. Go back to where this all began, where it will now end once and for all. I'll be waiting for you there, Tom."_ Harry felt Voldemort's anger course through his mind. His own mind became clouded with pain, as it always had, and Harry tried to pull himself back, but it was harder than he thought.

His mind was too unfocused, he couldn't think properly, not through the pain. It was so much worse now than it had ever been before. Harry's mind had always been the predominant part whenever Voldemort's thoughts had invaded it. He had always been able to push them away. Not here, not where Harry's mind was the minority. He panicked. He wasn't going to be able to get out.

Suddenly, a calm washed over him. In the complete blackness that surrounded him, a figure stepped forwards. It was Draco. He stood there, smiling, his hand outstretched. Harry stepped forward towards his guiding light, his own hand held out in front of him, reaching for Draco's grasp. The moment their hands connected, Harry felt himself flying backwards, towards his own mind.

He breathed in a deep, sucking breath as his eyes flew open. Draco's own, concerned eyes hovered above him. "Welcome back." He smiled.

"I couldn't escape him..."

"That's why I'll never leave you. I'll always be here to pull you back from the brink."

Harry lay in silence only a moment longer, before slowly sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair and rested his elbows on his knees.

"It's time, isn't it?" Draco whispered from behind him. Harry nodded. He felt a soft kiss on his shoulder blade, and Draco's lips were right next to his ear. "Then let's go." He stood from the bed and held out his hand. Harry took it and together they prepared to leave.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

Harry looked longingly around his worn down living room, a small smile on the corner of his mouth. He was saying good bye to his home. He touched the horn pendant around his neck, Draco had insisted it return to him, he needed it now.

Draco stood before him, a content smile on his face. He was the strong one now, the pillar holding the two of them together. Harry could not tear his eyes from the man that meant the world to him. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Harry felt truly happy, there was something for him to look forward to, and he knew Draco felt the same way, he was beautiful to the blond man.

To the outside world, these two boys were cold, cruel and unfeeling, and they were probably right. But to each other, they were everything, and that's all that mattered.

They shared all these feelings between their gaze, no words were needed. The moment shifted and they both knew it was time to go.

Harry was dressed in his black dragon hide clothing, his holster and scabbard strapped to his hips. Draco could feel the air crackle, as it usually did around Harry, his intense magic surrounding the raven haired boy at all times.

Harry ran his fingers gently along the hilt of the sword and the butt of the gun, his eyes closed. A single tear ran down his cheek. His fingers trembled as he reached down to the buckles that held them on. Undoing the fastening he held the sword up in front of him, studying it. It was with great hesitation that he gently placed it on the coffee table, looking away as he placed the gun down beside it.

"I just realized... I don't need them... not today." Fear and apprehension passed over Harry's face, the first time Draco had ever seen that expression on Harry.

Draco stepped close to Harry and gripped his hands tight in his. "I'll be with you the whole time. I'm not leaving you. Just a little longer and we'll finally be free."

Harry nodded. He shut his eyes again and took a deep breath in. Upon exhaling, the spark in the air vanished, the powerful magic in the air disappearing along with the intense gaze that was always present in Harry's eyes. "I won't need the shields anymore either." He shivered slightly. "It feels strange without them, it's been so long, I feel so vulnerable."

Draco didn't have words to respond. He stepped closer to Harry, wrapping his arms around his chest, resting his head on his shoulder.

"Let's go." Harry whispered, tightening his own grip on Draco. "I'll apparate us." He pulled back and stared deeply into Draco's stormy grey eyes. "See you on the other side..." Harry spoke heavily, in what may certainly have been the boy's final moment alone together on this earth.

He apparated the both of them away with a crack.

All over the wizarding world, something was happening. Those loyal to Harry, or Harry as he once had been, loyal to Dumbledore, former members of the DA, of the Order of the Phoenix, all received the same startling vision. They had to go to Hogwarts, they were compelled to. Something important was going to happen there, something that would change the very course of their world's future. Some ignored the summons, but most didn't, eager to witness any sliver of hope that would bring their world out of these dark times.

Harry and Draco arrived first, in the small clearing, the meadow where everyone's life had changed all those years ago. Harry stood on the exact spot where he had been proclaimed dead nearly five years ago. The location brought up more emotion inside him than he thought it would, and it took immense strength and a comforting word from Draco, for him to suppress it. He wouldn't show weakness to Voldemort, not now, not ever.

He could sense others in the forest all around him, his message had worked, they had come. The world would need someone good to lead them once both he and Voldemort were gone, he knew there would be someone in the crowd willing to take up the task. He smiled inside but kept his face stony. He could feel another presence, Death Eaters. Voldemort would not be far behind.

He did not have to wait long. Moments later, dark black clouds began circulating overhead, a bitter wind pushing mist around the clearing. A figure appeared in the midst of it all, Voldemort, floating to the ground, his gossamer robes billowing out around him. His feet touched the ground and he took a few steps towards Harry, choosing to lessen the gap between them. He made it a sign that he was in control of the situation, not Harry. His Death Eaters emerged from the forest, standing in formation behind him. There weren't as many as Harry thought, his numbers were down, Harry had killed most of the higher ranking Eaters, they were losing their edge.

Harry could feel the others in the forest, the ones on his side, emerge as well. This, he was not expecting, he couldn't risk them. He called upon the magic inside him, the magic he thought he had finally put to rest, and pushed it outwards from himself, creating a barrier between himself and the people behind him. They didn't need to be part of this.

"Hello Tom." Harry spoke calmly, nodding his head slightly towards Voldemort.

"Haven't you given up yet, Harry?" Voldemort mocked, taking another step towards the Boy Who Lived.

"No." Harry smiled, peace written across his face. This seemed to intrigue Voldemort, he had not seen this side of Harry before. "I should thank you, Tom. My resolve has never been stronger. Today is truly the end, Tom. Have a look around you, this is the last you will see of the world." Harry stepped towards him, spreading his arms, gesturing to everything around him.

"Oh, Harry... Harry..." Voldemort laughed, his menacing laugh echoing through the open space. His attention shifted to Draco. "It was truly a pity, Draco, that you did not stay by my side. You could have been a great man."

Draco clenched his fists and spoke through gritted teeth. "I chose to stand by a man who deserves my respect, a good man." Harry looked back at him and shook his head, pleading silently with him to stop speaking. He did.

Voldemort laughed again. "Oh, how amusing, the way you take orders from him. Pathetic." he sneered, turning his attention back to Harry. "Then again, it only gives me another reason to kill you, Harry, fucking fag-"

Draco was infuriated. Not one to sit back and be insulted, he dashed forwards, wand extended, rattling off a series of painful, crippling spells.

Harry watched it all play out in slow motion. He couldn't move, he was frozen on the spot. He had never been more terrified in his life, watching Draco rush towards Voldemort. Even if he had tried, there was nothing he could do to stop it now. None of Draco's spells even reached Voldemort before he had responded. Voldemort's bone wand was raised high and a jet of green light shot out of it, engulfing Draco as he ran.

"No!" Harry screamed, his legs unlocking. He ran, stumbling over his feet to reach his fallen lover. Magic exploded through him, throwing all his shields up again in an instant.

Draco lay crumpled on the ground, curled on his side. His face pointed skywards, his soft fringe of blond hair covering his eyes. His arm lay extended, his wand still clutched in his limp fingers.

Harry slowly knelt beside him, his back to Voldemort. A sob ripped trough him as his fingers grazed Draco's still warm skin and traced across his pink lips. "Draco..." He choked out a whisper. He brushed the fringe away from his eyes and locked his gaze onto them. They were empty, devoid of the life and sarcasm and wit and love. He was gone.

His eyes took in every inch of Draco's body as he tried to regain his composure. He caught sight of the dragon pendant hanging out of the collar of his shirt and instinctively reached for the horn at his own neck. He felt a wave of calm come over him. He had more resolve than ever to do what needed to be done. He leaned down and pressed a light kiss on Draco's lips. "I love you..." He whispered.

Something from the crowd, a feeling, drew his gaze upwards, and his eyes caught Hermione's, standing in the crowd, wedged between Ginny and Luna. Her eyes held nothing of the anger that had been there earlier in the day. He knew the look on her face, he'd been around her far too long to not. She had figured it out as well, she knew what he was going to do.

He broke their gaze and turned his back on the crowd, facing Voldemort once again. He hadn't even noticed the volley of spells that had been fired at him while his back had been turned, his shields had been more powerful than ever.

He pushed back his shields one last time, the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, and locked his gaze with Voldemort's. His red eyes bored into Harry's soul, his scar felt like it was nearly splitting in two, but he didn't register the pain. Nothing stood between them anymore.

"Do it." Harry whispered, unblinking. He remained kneeling on the ground, his hand clasped tightly around Draco's. He was getting cold. Voldemort stepped closer but did not respond. "Do it." He repeated, louder this time.

"So eager to die, Harry?" Voldemort mocked. "Finally abandoning your world? Admitting that you can't win? How could I ever deny you that?" He raised his wand again, slowly, methodically.

Harry smirked. He saw Voldemort's lips move, he must be speaking the words. Harry breathed deep one last time. "I am about to die." He whispered to himself, peace flowing through him. He saw the flash of green light before everything went black.

The crowd of those loyal to Harry gasped as their former hero collapsed on top of the body of their former enemy. Their hands gripped together tightly, raven and white hair contrasted starkly in the darkening afternoon.

What shocked them more, was that Voldemort fell at the same moment as Harry, green light enveloping him as well, though nobody had fired a spell. It seemed to almost have originated from inside the Dark Lord.

The Death Eaters struck. As soon as their master had collapsed to the ground they sprung forwards, wands raised. Spells of every type flew through the air, barraging them. But nothing made contact, none of the spells worked, nothing stuck.

Those loyal struck back, sending their own volley of spells. The Eaters could not hold their own, they fell quickly.

Once the chaos had settled, Hermione ran forwards, threw her wand to the ground and knelt by the pair of boys who lay clinging to each other even in death.

Some of the others had gone to check on Voldemort. They all came to the same conclusion instantly.

"He's not dead..." Hermione whispered, tears running down her face. He was breathing, just barely, his heartbeat faint, nearly non-existent. Voldemort was the same.

Harry woke, blinded by the overwhelming white light all around him. He picked himself up off the floor, or whatever it was that held him up, there was no definition to indicate that there was anything material here. He looked down at himself, holding his hands out in front of him. "What...?" He spoke aloud to himself, noticing something strange. His scars were gone, the raised white lines no longer covering his body, save one of course.

He looked around frantically. "Draco!" He called.

"You're almost there, Harry, just keep moving..." A ghostly voice permeated the air around him.

"Where are you?" He called desperately, frantic to find Draco.

""Just a little longer, Harry, you need to finish this."

Harry nodded resolutely and looked around again, searching for the monster responsible for everything. As he searched, objects began to materialize around him, a setting he could never forget in a million years. It looked exactly as it had that night, when Voldemort had returned.

Harry walked through the graveyard, dense fog floating between the gravestones. Of course it was not real, there was no sound, no cool breeze, not another living soul, save for himself and Him. A bubbling cauldron sat in the middle of it all, Voldemort stood next to it, devoid of robes, naked in the dark, just like Harry.

He was skeletal, pale, pathetic. His arms were wrapped around his corpse-like body as he shivered in the cold of the night that didn't exist for Harry. This was the Voldemort that existed now, an exact replica of the Voldemort that lay almost-dead in the meadow at Hogwarts.

He looked up as Harry approached, but there was no recognition, no soul still existed in that shell of a body.

Each step Harry took forwards, the figure of Voldemort shifted, reverting backwards through time. Each step brought back part of that soul, and Voldemort regained some of the strength that Harry had recalled from previous years. He still did not move.

The passage backwards through time continued, Voldemort still shifting until he took the form of that small baby, writhing, screaming, waiting to be placed in the cauldron. This form caused Harry to stop dead in his tracks, remembering the fear he had felt that night. He pushed that fear aside and continued forwards.

He was close, he could feel something building up inside him, something that told him this was almost over. The grotesque baby morphed into something human, the teenage incarnation of Tom Riddle. Something blinked to life inside this being and he stared at Harry.

This was the complete form of Voldemort as he once was, before separating his soul, before horcruxes. This Voldemort, no, Tom Riddle, was mortal.

Tom raised his wand, smiling widely. He opened his mouth to speak.

Harry's laugh interrupted him. "No." Harry quieted his laughter. "You hold no power here." He held out his hand and Tom's wand flew into it. He snapped it quickly.

Harry continued his movement towards Tom, his face stony and cold. At this shift in his mind, Harry became fully clothed in his black dragon armour, his familiar weapons replaced at his hip.

Every step Harry took forwards, Tom took one step back. He ran out of room, his back colliding with a large gravestone. He stumbled, his feet coming out from underneath him. His head rested only centimetres from his own name. Tom Marvolo Riddle was carved deeply into the stone behind him.

Harry's hand went to the silver and ruby hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor, pulling it slowly out of it's leather scabbard. Tom's eyes widened as he drew closer, darting side to side, trying to find some route of escape. There was none.

Harry crouched low in front of him, their eyes level. His grip tightened on the hilt of the sword, white light engulfing it, its form was changing, morphing into something smaller, more manageable, a ruby encrusted dagger. He leaned forwards, resting one hand on the gravestone behind Tom, his face close to Tom's ear. Harry could feel the fear oozing out of Tom's pores and it made him smile.

"It's been long enough Tom." He whispered in his ear. "You ruined my life. You killed my family. You killed any good part of me that had ever existed. You made me live in fear for most of my life." Harry smirked. "You made me strong, resilient. It's been 22 years since you first tried to kill me, and I suppose this time you succeeded, only now, we're playing by my rules. I may finally be dead," Harry pressed himself closer to Tom, "but I'm fucking taking you with me!"

Harry twisted his body quickly, bringing his fist that clutched the dagger forwards, plunging it deep into Tom's chest. He twisted the blade slightly and pulled his face back, staring coldly, triumphantly into Tom's frightened eyes. He watched as the light began to flicker out of them, as they became dull and lifeless.

Tom choked as he tried to breathe, his lungs gurgling up the blood that slowly filled them, trickling out the side of his mouth. He twitched a while longer before finally falling still, his head nodding forwards, blood still flowing freely from the wound in his chest.

Harry stood and stepped back, leaving the dagger embedded in his enemy's chest. He stared down at the dark haired teen whom he resembled in so many ways. Harry's mind was blank, he had finally done it and wasn't sure how to process the information. Once the situation began to sink in, a large grin appeared on Harry's face.

"I'm ready to go..." He spoke out loud. The scene before him was slowly dissolving, returning to the bright white light. A shadowed figure stood off in the distance, his hand outstretched, beckoning him forwards. Harry had returned to his former state as well, he was again devoid of clothing. "I'm coming." He whispered, beautiful, angelic visions of Draco flooding his mind. He jogged forwards, towards the figure.

A frown soon crossed Harry's features. He felt as though he wasn't moving, something was holding him back, the figure of Draco was not getting any closer, if anything, it was getting farther away. "No..." He whispered. "Let me go! I need-"

"Harry..." He heard Draco's voice whisper to him across the void. "Harry please, stay with me..." The sad voice called.

"Draco, I'm trying! I don't know what- Please!" He screamed into the void, Draco's figure only a pinprick on the horizon. "No! Let me go!" His voice was frantic, pleading. It felt as though there were a dozen pairs of arms holding him, pulling him backwards.

"Harry..." A voice whispered, tears full in their voice. It was not Draco.

The world of white began to fade around him, blackness engulfing him once again.

This time the blackness did not lift, it remained and was joined by the hard, wet ground underneath him, the cold breeze blowing all around him and the faces of people who hovered over top of him.

He felt as though everything inside of him was missing, replaced by the pain of longing, an empty void of nothingness. He couldn't hold back the choking sob that nearly broke him in half, his body trying desperately to convey the abject despair he felt.

Warm arms surrounded him and he felt hot tears drop onto his face. "Oh, Harry." A soft, feminine voice whispered soothingly in his ear, rubbing circles on his back as she held him close to her. It was Hermione. "I didn't know if it would work, but we did it Harry, we brought you back."

Harry thought his body would implode on itself he felt so empty inside. "No." He choked out. He could still feel his body trying to pull him on to the other side, he was trying so hard to let it. It was only Hermione's magic that kept him here, trapped in hell. He pulled himself away from her and collapsed back on Draco's now cold body.

"It's going to be okay, Harry, you're going to be all right." She placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

With a surprising amount of force Harry pushed her off. "No..." He could feel his energy leaving him, he was slipping back into death. He smiled.

Hermione frantically began to whisper spells, trying anything to keep him alive.

"Hermione, stop." He begged, his voice broken and pathetic. "Just let me go..." He choked, sobs overcoming him. "I've done what I had to. Voldemort's gone. Please..." He clutched himself closer to Draco, placing small kisses along his jaw. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to live anymore. Haven't I suffered enough? Let me go... let me have peace."

Hermione shook her head wildly, refusing to let him go, healing light still flowing from her wand. "Harry, no, I have nothing left here without you... I..."

"You have a world to live in. You have a future. I don't... I don't belong here, neither did he. This world is not for us, not anymore. That's why we belong, beyond together. Please, Hermione, let me go. Let me be happy. Let me go to him. He's waiting for me. I don't want to be alone anymore..."

Hermione broke, her tears overwhelming her, turning to choking sobs as she slowly lowered her wand. Ginny was close behind her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Ginny took the wand from Hermione's hand and placed it on the ground, the light disappearing from its tip.

"Go, Harry..." Ginny whispered. "We owe you that much. Be happy."

Harry's eyes blurred as he looked up at them one last time. He felt his body become light, he was drifting away. He smiled and burrowed his face into Draco's neck, curling himself around the blond. "Thank you." He whispered with his last breath.

Harry Potter fell still, never to rise again.

The clearing fell deathly silent, all present unable to speak, or breathe, or move. The darkness began to fade as the moon rose slowly over the canopy of trees, breaking their crest and casting soft white light over the pair of unlikely lovers, forever bound together, even in death.

That morning the sun would rise as it always had, the world would continue to turn. Only, that morning, because of the brave raven haired boy, a boy the world had unfairly placed every hope on, a boy the world had broken, a boy whose sanity had been unfairly stolen from him, there would be hope. Hope, because of the blond who lay next to him, the one person who had not given up on him, who had let him be, accepted him when the world turned their back.

That morning, the world would remember the two boys who defeated Voldemort:

The Boy Who Lived, and the man who loved him.

The end.


End file.
